


Maybe Someday

by elisi



Series: Maybe Someday [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Bickering, Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Reunions, Romance, Shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-10-20 02:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10653105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisi/pseuds/elisi
Summary: “Tell me ... maybe, someday, there's a chance."‘Crush’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written 12 years ago, so it's quite strange going back to re-visit it. Mostly I am keeping it the same, with only minor cosmetic edits. 
> 
> It's set a few months post-The Summer After, so Autumn 2004 - September-ish I guess. It features Buffy/Spike, but also Spike & Angel friendship, and all three characters try to work out where they're at now and what that means.
> 
> Yes, it's at heart a shippy fic, but the main plot about the fight against W&H rumbles on in the background, and carries on to future stories.

She met him the first time she went ice-skating. Dawn had hinted that it would probably do her good to have some sort of hobby - she seemed to spend an awful lot of time looking after the new Slayers - and had then suggested ice-skating: “You used to love it - remember?”. Buffy did remember - she also recalled the only occasion when she had gone ice-skating after being called... Angel and the Order of Taraka did not happy memories make.

But since she was making a fresh start, maybe it would be a good idea. So one early spring day she set off for the large Marino Centre - the trains practically went to the door, so at least it was easy to find.

That first day, joining in with all the other members of the public that came here, she had been a little shaky... it had been a long time since she had done this last. Once when taking a short break she had heard a deep voice offering to help her and had turned to see a tall, tanned man, immaculately dressed, holding out his hand and smiling. He was so impossibly good-looking, that for a moment she thought he must be talking to someone else, but he repeated his offer and gently took her arm. Skating around she wondered who he was - he skated exquisitely and she asked him if he was a professional. At this he laughed and showed blindingly white teeth that made her think of movie stars. 

They had made small talk - she told him about her skating obsession as a child and he had nodded and smiled and been the perfect gentleman. So much so, that it was only when she was sitting in the train on the way home, that she realised that he had never told her his name. His English had been excellent, with only the slightest trace of an accent that she couldn’t place - not Italian, anyway. Trying to describe him to Dawn she felt rather foolish, but Dawn said that at least she was moving on. Buffy nodded silently at the unvoiced implication. 

She hadn’t expected to see the stranger again, but next week he was there once more. When she asked him his name he had laughed and answered: ‘’You mean you do not know who I am?” which brought sudden disturbing images of Dracula to mind, although this man did not look creepy at all. She had shaken her head and he had apologised for his rudeness, he had simply assumed she knew: “I am The Immortal. Your Watcher never told you about me?” 

This had caused her to freak out and she had left him there and then. That evening she had called Giles and asked him to find out everything he could about someone named ‘The Immortal’. The information was scattered, but Giles had not found anything to suggest he was evil - his main worry had been that the man seemed to be a bit of a playboy, and warned Buffy against ‘that type’, whether demon or human! 

But since this Immortal guy didn’t appear to stalk her at all and she enjoyed skating, a few weeks later she was back at the rink. When he saw her, he came over and apologised for frightening her previously. Then he sweetly explained that he had heard of her - he had contacts in the demon world - and had been quite excited to finally meet her. In all he was so friendly that she found it hard to resist when he suggested a drink. 

After a few weeks the ‘drinks’ turned into semi-dates. When Dawn had asked about it, Buffy shrugged. “He’s company, y’know? And he’s immortal - he’s hardly wanting to get married and have a bunch of rugrats.” Dawn had nodded and seemed to understand, which Buffy was very happy about. She did not want to explain herself to anyone - especially not herself. The Immortal was the perfect date, charming, considerate, excellent at dancing and knew all the best restaurants in Rome. 

When she finally let him meet her friends (Willow and Kennedy had come to visit, and Willow had been most insistent on a meeting) he had been friendly, but not overly so. Dawn said he was ok - Willow said something about his velvety eyes that had Kennedy nodding instead of being jealous... it all went really well. 

 

She slept with him now and again. The first time had been a beautiful evening, when after a good deal of wine he had invited her back to ‘his place’. This had turned out to be more like ‘his palace’, which she had half-expected, but she’d nevertheless been rather impressed.

He was as good a lover as she had expected. Perfect in every way. Impeccable even. His skill honed through many lifetimes, he took her total satisfaction as a given. She had lain awake for a long time afterwards, knowing that if she fell asleep, another name might cross her lips. A name she had never mentioned to him, and never would. Some things were too private, too raw still. 

She had left a few hours before sunrise, gently waking him to say that she hadn’t told Dawn she’d be out this late, and didn’t want to worry her. He had smiled understandingly and praised her for her concern. 

On the way home she had walked through a graveyard, found a fledgling vampire and fought him hard and furiously for an unnecessarily long time - only staking him as the sun rose, so the rays wouldn’t rob her of her prey. She walked home in a daze, tired and battered, and when she caught sight of herself in a mirror went straight into the shower. As the cool water hit her too-hot body she finally broke down. She didn’t know how long she cried for. She remembered another night, another man - someone not perfect. Someone who could be gentle and loving, but also knew how to make her scream. Who hadn’t held back and somehow managed to get through to her - releasing her. Someone who used to wear eyeliner, black nail polish and who never cared for what people thought. Someone who had loved her through everything... who would have called her beautiful if he had seen her when she came through the door. Then asked if she wanted to go another round. Someone she would never see again. And she cried for the world she had lost.

Sitting in her room afterwards, she carefully took out her secret. Her treasure. She had found it quite unexpectedly. It had been shortly after The First had been defeated...

They had all gone to London, to see if there was any of the old Council that could be salvaged. Older Watchers had turned up, eager to help. Many had private book collections that they were more than happy to donate to the New Council. Giles had been overjoyed at their generosity, but found himself with a very large number of books that needed indexing. So Buffy had spent a good few weeks sorting through musty old tomes, along with an assortment of elderly Watchers. Giles had been surprised when she volunteered, but her skills were rather limited and she was tired of fighting for the time being. And although the work was boring, it was useful, and she found the repetitive occupation soothing. 

Then one day - flicking through yet another copy of ‘History of the Aurelian Vampires’ (trying to avoid the pictures of The Master and Angelus, they still had the power to creep her out) - she noticed a picture stuck between two pages. Thinking it was a bookmark, and wondering how old it could be, she pulled it out and suddenly felt faint. It was _him_! 

The photo had obviously been taken a long, long time ago. His hair was darker - longish and wavy, the clothes looked Victorian. But the face was the same and the scar was there. He looked straight into the camera, eyes mischievous and with a hint of danger. A small smile was on his lips, as though someone had just told a joke. For a moment she was unable to breathe. She had never had a picture of him. She had never thought that she’d need one. Spike was just _there_. Always. Until suddenly he wasn’t.

She swallowed and quickly glanced around, but none of the others had noticed anything. She swiftly stored the picture in her bag and when she later came back to her hotel room, she put it in a poetry book she had bought earlier that week....

Looking at it now, she marvelled again at her good fortune. She knew that technically she had stolen the photo, but she didn’t care. If anyone deserved it, she did. As her fingers hovered over his image, she wondered again how come she was so affected by a picture of a soulless murderer. He was evil when the photo was taken, she knew. He would spend the next century or so killing people, and yet... it was the soulless killer who had fallen in love with her. It was quite simply part of who he was, and she had accepted that a long time ago. And there had been light in him, just as there was darkness in her. She sighed and carefully put the photo back. She was trying to move on, and for the time being The Immortal seemed like the best option.

 

It was only after a few months that she suddenly realised what The Immortal reminded her of. It had been at nagging her a the back of her mind, and one day it came to her - it was the Bot. She stood stock still, which wasn’t a good idea when skating, since several people nearly bumped into her. Ignoring their swearing, she noticed The Immortal coming up to her, a slightly worried look on his face: “Are you ok, Cara Mia?” She had smiled reassuringly: “Fine, I just - remembered something,” and skated on. 

That night she had stayed in with a movie wondering why her brain had made such an odd connection. Then it dawned on her - he was too perfect. Never angry, never late, never worried - always pleasant and friendly. But rather than making him more attractive, she realised that this was why she would never fall in love with him, and that this was probably why she was going out with him in the first place - her heart was safe while she slowly patched it up. 

So she kept seeing him - if nothing else it stopped her friends and the new Slayers from getting her ‘blind dates’. And how many girls could say that The Immortal had been their rebound guy? She owed it to Spike to be happy, so she did the best she could.


	2. Chapter 2

September had arrived, and Buffy felt that this was as good an excuse to go shopping for a new coat as was possible to find, and Dawn whole-heartedly agreed. Compared to Sunnydale, Rome was a goldmine shopping-wise and the sisters tried very hard not to go overboard as they had the first few months. So the fact that it was supposed to be getting colder was a welcome excuse.

When Buffy saw the black leather she stopped in her tracks and slowly walked up to it. It was almost identical to the one she used to have back in Sunnydale, the one she had worn the night she first kissed Spike...

_Oh, she had dressed so carefully that evening - because if she couldn’t fight, at least she could make a pretty demon-bride. And black and red seemed to be the colours of choice for evil things. She had noted how well it suited her and somewhere in the back of her mind had been the thought that she and Spike would make a knock-out couple, a vision of blonde hair and black leather..._

No, no thinking about that! She would buy it because it was good quality and exactly what she was looking for, not because the smell of leather brought back waves of sensory memories....

The Immortal liked it. He had complimented her (and he didn’t always - he had perfect taste and was not afraid to tell her if she got it wrong. Although she always knew he was right, it sometimes chafed), and they went out to one of their favourite clubs. 

It was now late, and she was very grateful for her fellow Slayers. Patrolling after a long night of dancing was not something she relished. 

They were walking down a narrow alley (The Immortal claimed to know all shortcuts in Rome, and by now she believed him) discussing where to go next week, when Buffy looked ahead and saw that the piazza at the end of the alley was currently full of demons.

She was already halfway through dialling the Council’s Rome number, when The Immortal stopped her: “Your fellow Slayers will not be necessary, my dear.” 

She looked at him uncomprehendingly: “If you’re suggesting that I take on a small army by myself, you’re crazy! I mean I’m flattered - _obviously_ \- but honestly...” 

He smiled indulgently and explained: “These are not ordinary demons - they are hired soldiers. Look!”

She tentatively peeked out of the alley and found that as usual he was right. There were maybe 30 or 40 demons, but they were lined up and standing at the front was a human.... an Italian by the look of him, in a very expensive suit. She turned to The Immortal, and he answered the unvoiced question: “Wolfram and Hart. I recognise the man - he is one of their top lawyers. This is official business from the look of it. Nothing for you to worry about.”

She frowned slightly - Wolfram and Hart were evil with a capital E! But she knew very little about what they actually did, so she didn’t want to spoil such an opportunity: “Would you mind if we just... you know... watched for a bit? Maybe I can get the inside scoop on something.”

The Immortal shrugged, obviously happy to do whatever she wanted. She smiled at him and scanned the demon horde again. Big and lumpy with short horns they looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t remember what they were called. Obviously picked for their smash-and-bash skills rather than finesse. The square was mostly dark, the few lights hardly enough for someone to find their way, and the general air of grime and shabbiness making it clear that this was not a popular place. As dangerous as the alleys of Sunnydale once were. Which was probably why it was used by an evil law firm...

She felt a sudden stab of pain. Was this what Angel had been doing this past year? Employing demons and making shady deals? She had never told The Immortal about Angel and how she knew of Wolfram and Hart - had hardly told him anything about her life in Sunnydale. She didn’t know why, but she felt unable to explain what her previous life had been like. She felt somehow displaced from it all, and for the time being that was fine. When Giles had called in the summer explaining that W&H in LA had collapsed, and that Angel and his team were missing, she had nearly caved in. But she somehow kept going on, not letting on what she had heard. No reason to worry anyone else until they knew for sure. Some weeks later Giles called again. He had been oddly hesitant - obviously not wanting to get her hopes up too much, but he said that there had been sightings of Angel - he knew no details, but apparently the vampire was alive. 

Movement on the far right side of the square tore her out of her musings. Someone - or something - was approaching. The lawyer obviously noticed too, because he stood up straight. Buffy found herself quite excited, dealings in the demon underworld were something she hardly ever got to witness, so this was an unusual opportunity. Then a figure came out into the dim, hazy light of the lanterns and she suddenly felt faint. It was Angel.

***

Angel was followed by two other figures, but they were still covered by the shadows and she barely noticed them. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was Angel, he was alive - or not dust anyway - but how? And why was he in Rome?

When she opened her eyes, Angel was standing facing the lawyer guy, who had started talking: “Angel - Ilona sends her greetings. She does not wish for any harm to come to you. She very kindly requests that you come with us and she will personally make sure of your comfort, safe from the Senior Partners.” 

Angel smiled a ghost smile and replied: “Give her my regards, but I already have a girlfriend.”

This made Buffy blink. Girlfriend? Angel had a _girlfriend_? Her eyes drifted to the odd blue demon standing slightly to his left. It looked kind of female, but surely...

“So you will persist in your foolhardy resistance?”

A chuckle from Angel: “Most certainly!”

The man bowed gracefully and replied politely: ”In that case, prepare to die!” 

The vampire smiled wryly: “Hate to break it to you, but we’re already dead.”

And he drew his sword.

As the words slowly sank in, Buffy watched, unable to move. 

Then Angel’s other companion stepped forward and into her field of vision, his own sword raised, the steel reflecting on his white hair, the coat making his outline as recognisable as her own mirror-image. 

A cry pierced the night. 

“ _NOOOOOO!_ ”

The scene in front of her froze as Buffy realised that she had actually shouted out loud what her mind had been yelling. The vampire who had been burning to death when she last saw him, slowly turned his head and his eyes sought out hers the way they always had - like lightening striking and leaving her reeling. Unable to move, she saw him slowly sheathe his sword and when one of the demons stepped forward, he held up his hand with a casual authority that made her catch her breath. She vaguely noticed Angel and the man in the suit start a quiet conversation, but all of her mind was focussed on the man coming towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. 

He stopped just in front of her, obviously waiting for her to make the first move. Carefully she reached out and touched his face as she finally found her voice: “Spike - are you real?” 

Then he smiled - the smile she always saw in her dreams - the happy, glowing smile that he smiled only for her: “Yes Buffy, I’m real.” And he brought up his own hand to cover hers as he leaned into it.

She found that she was shaking as the reality of the situation hit her. _Spike was alive! Spike was here!_

As she started to sob, he gathered her into his arms. “Shh, love. It’s OK. It’s OK.” She buried her face in his chest and clung to him, laughter and tears mingling. She could feel him breathe her in, feel the kisses he rained on her hair, feel his hands holding her so tight that she knew that _this time_ , nothing would take him away from her.


	3. Chapter 3

  


Buffy lifted her head to look at Spike, and before she knew it they were kissing. She had forgotten how good it felt - how the world fell away and left only the two of them, the fire between so bright it was blinding. It just felt _right_ \- like she had somehow been in another dimension and suddenly found herself back in her own universe where everything made sense. Her hands in his hair ( _he always looked so_ hot _when his hair was ruffled_ ), on his chest ( _so perfectly sculpted, so soft for sleeping on_ ), caressing his leather-clad back.... when they finally broke for air she found herself babbling, as she memorised his features with her fingertips, the look on his face nearly making her cry again: “Don’t leave! Don’t ever leave me again! You weren’t supposed to die! Stay! I can’t lose you - not again... Spike - promise you’ll stay, you have to! I love you!”

His eyes glowed as he replied, voice shaking: “Buffy, I...” 

Then he suddenly looked up and stopped. 

Tearing her eyes from his face, she turned her head and felt the ground give way again - the only thing that stopped her from falling over being Spike’s arm around her waist. Watching them were the odd blue demon, a stony faced Angel - and The Immortal. The demon horde had somehow vanished.

When he saw her look up, The Immortal smiled and addressed - not her, but Spike: “William the Bloody, I see you finally learned how to do thrall. How very impressive. Oh, and Angelus - how are you? If you’ll excuse us, I think that The Slayer and I need to leave, before she finds more reasons for staking you... if you go now I will spare you, even though you’ve gone too far already.” 

Buffy could feel Spike tense, but before she could explain, he answered, voice mocking: “I hate to break it to you, _Immortal_ , but those names have long been out of date. We’ve been Spike and Angel for more than a century now. And there is no thrall - who do you think I am? Bloody Dracula? No don’t tell me - you taught him everything he knows.” 

Realising that the men in front of her clearly had some sort of shared history, Buffy asked the obvious question: “You... know each other?” 

Angel spoke now, voice light, but his eyes dark and dangerous as he looked at The Immortal: “You could say that... now can I just ask since you’re here - what exactly did you do to Darla? She was giggling like a schoolgirl when we found her and I’m inclined to think Spike is right - only a thrall could have done that.” 

The Immortal’s classic features betrayed no emotion as he smiled pleasantly and turned to Buffy: “Pay them no heed, Caramia, they are but lowly vampires, trying to add another Slayer to their small list of achievements.”

Spike unwrapped his arm from Buffy’s middle and gave her fingers a brief squeeze before he took half a step forward, arms crossed and his trademark smirk firmly in place: “I think Angel deserves an answer - don’t you Buffy? You must be curious as to why your lovely... _escort_ slept with the nastiest queen bitch in all of history.”

Buffy frowned: “But Darla’s dead! All dust blowing in the wind. Angel staked her.” 

Angel stiffened, and Spike, casting a quick glance at his grandsire, answered smoothly: “Oh, we’re talking 110 years ago... funnily enough it happened here in Rome.”

She looked at The Immortal, waiting for him deny this ridiculous charge, but he just looked handsome and smiled at her.

Trying to get her thoughts in order, she asked him slowly: “You slept with _Darla_?”

Before he could reply, Spike butted in: “Dru too!” And then he grinned evilly before delivering the final blow: “ _Concurrently._ ”

Buffy took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. Spike turned his head, and when she looked at him, he smiled apologetically: “Sorry, luv, don’t want to ruin this thing you’ve got goin' on, but we thought you’d like to know... “ 

She nodded mutely and turned back to The Immortal: “Why?”

“There are many kinds of revenge my dear, and these two were bothering me. I think it better to make my vengeance sweet.” 

And he smiled that perfect, charming smile that had even made Willow and Kennedy weak at the knees.

Buffy blinked. “Huh?”

Spike sighed. “Oh, he used to be our arch-nemesis - And can I just say ‘lowly vampires’? We’re from the Order of Aurelius, moron - bleeding aristocracy in vampire-terms. _And_ the two worst vampires on record. A hell of a lot more Darth Vader than Dr. Evil.” He shrugged. “Anyway, that whole competition-thing went out the window years ago.”

The Immortal looked ever so slightly surprised. “Well, I thought it was obvious that you gave up... why this admission now?”

Both vampires suddenly stood up straight. Then they stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder, anger palpable in the air.

Angel spoke now, his voice cold: “We didn’t _give up_ \- we quite simply don't have time for pointless feuds anymore. Unlike _you_ we have better things to do with our time than climb mountains and impress women. We’re _Champions_ now - we fight the powers of Darkness. We stop Apocalypses, we wage wars and we are currently trying to bring down the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart. You should run along now and stop bothering us - you’re way out of your league.”

The Immortal never stopped smiling and replied contemptuously: “You bluff - you always were a big talker Angelus.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, and Buffy felt a chill run through her - she had not seen him look like this since... since he was Angelus. Then he spoke again, barely contained fury in his voice: “You are a _fool_ Immortal! You might have known Angelus, but you have _no idea_ who Angel is. You are looking at the only surviving member of The Circle of the Black Thorn. Do you know what happened to the rest?”

The words meant nothing to Buffy, but they obviously did to The Immortal, because she could have sworn that he went pale under his perfect tan. “You lie!” he hissed, but Angel slowly shook his head, a small cruel smile on his lips: “I had them all killed. Surely you heard?” 

Buffy held her breath. Looking at the angry faces she hardly knew what to think. She found her eyes drawn to Spike yet again, and in amongst the joy that welled up in her she began to wonder: 'What happened? Why is he here? And why is he suddenly best friends with Angel?' Because it was obvious that something had happened - all she knew was that the last time she had seen either of them they hated each other, but here they were side by side, backing each other up - almost finishing each other’s sentences. She felt her head begin to pound as she tried to work it all out.

Her attention was caught by the blue demon, who was silently surveying the scene. Unnerving, unemotional eyes studied the Immortal, and then it turned to Angel: “The battle you promised me did not happen. I wish to amuse myself with this one instead. He is strong and should be able to withstand my power for long enough to entertain me. Will he fight?”

The vampires glanced at each other, unspoken words hanging in the air. Spike shrugged. “Would make life simpler wouldn’t it? But it’s not really up to us - what do you say Immortal? Fancy a death-match with an Elder God?”

And then Buffy saw a look on The Immortal’s face that she had never suspected him capable of - fear. It was only there for a split-second, but she knew they had all seen it. He looked at them all in turn and obviously decided that he was outnumbered. Holding out his hand toward Buffy, he said quietly: “Are you coming mon cher?”

She shook her head and stepped back. Why did life have to be so complicated? She had just found out that Spike was alive, but instead of kissing him for eternity, she found herself in a strange web of intrigue and old feuds... “I think I need to... I mean... I need some space.” 

He bowed elegantly and blew her a kiss: “I am sorry Buffy Summers. But I see you have fallen under the vampires’ spell.” 

Sudden anger flared up in her: “There’s no _spell_! How _dare_ you! They’re my...” failing to find an adequate word for what they meant to her, she just let her anger speak: “They _love_ me - Spike _died_ for me! Go back to your perfect house and your perfect life. You won’t be seeing me anymore.”

The Immortal shrugged and walked away, the dull lights outlining his silhouette as though he were an old-fashioned Hollywood star. As she watched him go, she almost expected there to be swelling background music and began to wonder how on earth he did that - was it a spell or just some weird ‘Immortal’-thing? Could charm be a super-power?

She turned to see Angel and Spike looking at her, laughter in their eyes. “Oh you are _magnificent_ ,” Spike exclaimed. “That was definitely worth waiting a century for.”

Then they both seemed to remember what had taken place before their war-of-words with The Immortal and Angel turned to Spike: “What were you doing kissing her?” 

Spike scoffed: “Well, it seems to be the way she prefers being greeted. I distinctly remember her kissing _you_ over the dead body of preacher-guy.”

“Not like _that_!” Angel shot back.

Spike’s only response to this was a smirk so smug, that it made Buffy want to simultaneously hit him and kiss him again. But Angel was right... the kiss had not been anywhere near a ‘hello’.... if she had to categorise it, it probably came closer to ‘foreplay’ - a few more minutes and a dark alley... 

It seemed she would now have to have the confrontation that she had so carefully avoided that night in Sunnydale. At least she was not as conflicted as she’d been then. Things with Spike had been so tentative ... both of them treading so carefully, but looking back she wished she hadn’t been so scared. She didn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t died, but she felt sure that they could have made it work somehow. And now she suddenly had the chance - she wasn’t about to screw up again because she couldn’t admit what she felt until it was too late.

Buffy took a deep breath and spoke: “I’m standing right here! And yes I kissed him Angel. I thought he was _dead_. I - I love him!” 

Angel looked at her blank-faced. “You love him?”

She lifted her head, waiting for the arguments to come. “Yes!”

Spike was now smiling widely, but instead of turning into a 12-year old again, Angel only nodded. “OK.” He turned to Spike. “Lawyer guy got spooked seeing a Slayer. They’re trying to keep out of the Council’s way - for the time being at least. And since there is that big Slayer-meeting next week in London, we rescheduled the fight for next Sunday.”

Spike’s smile faded slightly and he sighed. “We have to wait a _week_ before we get to kill their goons? Bloody lawyers. But it gives us some time to find our contact I guess.”

Buffy blinked. What had just happened? She suddenly felt like she was in a play and had been given different lines to everyone else. Then remembering her former confusion, she looked at Spike: “Why aren’t you dead anymore? Why are you here? How long have you been back? Why did you never call?” 

The happy smile now completely gone, he looked down. “It’s a long story Buffy, we probably need to talk.”


	4. Chapter 4

There was a brief pause as they tried to work out what to do now. 

“Um, we could go to my apartment?” Buffy said. “Dawn’s away on a study trip, so we can talk in peace.” 

The vampires nodded, but the blue demon - _had they really said hellgod?_ \- cocked its head and studied her:

“This is the Slayer - the one who fought Glorificus.”

Spike, realising that he’d omitted the introductions, hastily replied. “Yeah, this is Buffy. Buffy - meet Illyria. It’s a really long story, but she’s an Elder God and she travels with us. A bit like Glory - if she’d been sane.”

Illyria’s head snapped round. “Glorificus was but a pale shadow compared to me. She once came to pay me homage and brought many gifts and sacrifices. But she was conceited and I sent her home with no blessings. To hear of her death pleased me.”

Spike sighed audibly. “Fine. So you were the most brilliant sun that ever lit up the sky - can we go now?”

Illyria ignored him and focussed on Buffy again. “You fought bravely and skilfully, and then gave up your life for your blood-kin. If you had been a warrior in my armies you would have won great honour.”

Buffy tried to work out what a correct response would be and in the end just came up with “Thank you”, which wasn’t the height of eloquence, but it appeared to be enough. 

“Show us to your abode.” Illyria commanded and they set off. As they walked, Angel gave a quick run-through of their situation. He no longer worked for W&H, there had been a big battle and all the others had been killed... 

“Everyone?” Buffy asked, suddenly feeling unwell after finally having Giles’ rumours confirmed. 

“Everyone,” he answered grimly. “My whole team.” 

He reconsidered, then amended. “Actually Lorne might have managed to get away - if he did, he’s probably sitting in a bar somewhere cursing my name.”

There was sadness in his voice, and Buffy wondered who Lorne was and tried to remember who Angel had been working with. She knew that Cordelia had died earlier that year, so of all the people that she had known, that left only Wesley. Poor Wesley, he had been so spectacularly unsuited to his job. She wondered what he had been like, working with Angel. She thought about asking, but Angel seemed closed off and lost in his thoughts. Looking at Spike she saw him smiling sadly: “I’ll tell you about them all one day - they were good people.”

Instinctively she sought out his hand and he took it, a look of awe in his eyes. “Hey - look; no flames this time!” he said, and she smiled as silence fell. 

She couldn’t work them out. Angel was very quiet - too quiet. There was something going on, more than just the usual brooding. And Spike... Spike she really needed to talk to, but she wanted to be alone with him before she started with the third degree - too many big events in her life had taken place with an audience. Also, he wasn’t behaving like Spike from old - he seemed almost shy, rather than flaunting her in front of Angel, as she had half-expected. And she began to wonder exactly how much he had changed. He seemed more like he had after he found out that The First had made him kill again - quiet and introspective. _But_... on the other hand he appeared more self assured than he had been since before the chip. Like the quietness was because he needn't prove anything anymore. 

 

Outside her flat, Angel hesitated. “I need a word with Spike - _alone_!” Reluctantly she let go of Spike’s hand - she had learned that if you didn’t hold onto things tightly they disappeared, but it did seem unlikely that Spike would vanish from outside her flat door. Especially considering her sophisticated spy-system.

Illyria had already entered, and seemed fascinated by Buffy’s weapons that lay scattered on the floor - she had been in the middle of cleaning them when The Immortal had come to ask her out.

Closing the door, she very quietly took the glass she kept in the cupboard next to the door and carefully positioned it so she could hear what they were saying. This was how she kept on top of which boys Dawn dated and how their dates went, but it had come in handy at other occasions too. And now...

“.... never tell me that she loved you?” she heard Angel say, the anger obvious even through the thick wood.

“Because it’s none of your bloody business!” Spike shot back. “There’s something called privacy, and what Buffy and I had is _personal_ , Mister I’m-so-brilliant-she-could-never-love-anyone-else.”

There was a long pause, and Buffy began to wish that the door had a spy hole, since she could not guess what was happening. Then Angel spoke again, his voice quiet and with out any of the previous anger: “If you’re talking about the big fight, then I’m sorry about what I said. But that was a good while ago now - I thought we’d moved past that. And you beat me anyway - just as you’ve obviously beaten me to Buffy’s heart.”

More silence. Buffy held her breath. Was Angel giving them his blessing? He had said something about a girlfriend... then Spike finally replied, his voice nearly breaking: “I don’t know if I can do it Angel - I should’ve stayed away like we planned originally... I was the one person who always came back, I can’t leave her again - I can’t break her heart now.”

Angel spoke again, voice earnest: “Spike - you don’t have a choice. I’m sorry, I should have told you this earlier-” but Buffy had heard enough and tore the door open: “Why are you talking about leaving?” 

Her eyes angry and betrayed she glared at them and they ducked their heads. Angel looked up first. “This was supposed to be a private conversation.”

Buffy nearly exploded: “ _Private_? So you could decide what to do with me? _Again_? This is _my life_ \- I get a say. And how dare you tell Spike what he should do?”

Spike looked up then and the look in his eyes made her falter. “My life too, pet. And just because I love you more than anything in the world doesn’t mean that I can just stay, how ever much I wish it. There are... factors we have not told you about.”

“Then tell me,” she said quietly. They nodded and walked in. 

As they stepped past her and over the threshold, she frowned. “Hey - I didn’t invite you in.”

Angel, having seated himself on the sofa, looked up: “Oh, Andrew invited us in last time we were here.”

“ _Last time_?”

“Oh, erm, yeah...”

“And we? You were _both_ here? And didn’t tell me? When was this?”

Both vampires now looked embarrassed. Angel replied again, obviously trying to regain some sort of composure: “We were here on _business_... retrieving a demon-head. In May I think it was. And we just... you know... wanted to check up on you, what with you seeing The Immortal and all that.”

Buffy took a deep breath and asked slowly, trying her very best not to yell again: “How... how did you know I was seeing The Immortal?”

Spike held up his hands to demonstrate his innocence, and Angel sighed deeply. “I had you tailed. Look I’m not proud of it, but I just wanted to make sure you were OK.”

Buffy was now utterly lost for words. “That was _you_? The little weasly guy that I beat up for stalking me, worked for _you_?”

A silent nod. 

She shook her head in disbelief: “I’ve had enough of this. I need to talk to Spike. _Alone_! There’s a show about martial arts on now, if you’re interested.” She went to the large pile of videos next to the TV and found a blank one. “If you could record it for me, that would be super nice.” 

Turning on the TV with the remote she grabbed Spike and dragged him toward the bedroom, as she tossed the video at Angel who automatically caught it. He looked rather pissed off, but she didn’t care. Damn him, and his well-meaning ways of doing ‘what was best for her’. Spike at least she knew how to deal with.


	5. Chapter 5

As Buffy closed the bedroom door, Spike undid the sword from his belt and carefully put it down in a corner. Then he stretched and sat down on the bed.

“Right Buffy, what do you want to know?”

She looked at him, and was suddenly lost for words. He was just sitting there, patiently waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. He was real and solid and she felt all the places inside that had been empty for so long begin to fill up again. And God, how much of a cliché was that? But did it matter if it was true? Her emotions were so conflicted, that she barely knew what to say. One question however kept returning. 

“When did you come back?”

He considered for a moment. “Oh, more than a year ago.... about a fortnight after we beat The First.”

The anger she had been forgetting suddenly came back in full force, as her hands balled into fists: “ _A year_? And you could never even be bothered to call? I _mourned_ you! I... I... - what the _hell_ were you _thinking_?”

He looked down. “It’s complicated Buffy. If you want to beat me up, that’s fine. Otherwise... just listen to me, ok? I know I’ve not been fair to you. And I’m sorry about that. But... I didn’t think I’d still be alive by now.”

“Huh? What.. what do you mean?”

He sighed. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”

She nodded and sat down next to him, and for a moment had a barrage of ‘Spike - my bed - metal frame - silk scarf - ‘ images flashing through her head, but quickly stomped down on them. No violence or sex tonight! And then Spike began to speak:

“Well, it’s all the amulet’s fault really.” 

Buffy nodded and waited. The explanation wasn’t far behind. “Came from Wolfram & Hart you see - I was sort of trapped in it, and re-emerged when Angel was sent it in the mail. Only... I was a sort of ghost.” 

Buffy frowned. “A _ghost_?” 

“Yeah. It was... it was sort of the opposite of when you came back I guess. Except for... well, thinking it was over and then realising it’s not.” 

He looked at her then, and she remembered another conversation, nearly three years ago... 

_I was finished. Complete..._

As she recalled her despair, she swallowed. No-one should have to go through that. He had been so proud - her Champion, saving the world. His final big gesture. And then to be brought back again... she didn’t even notice that the anger turned into something else. 

_How lonely it must have been for him - I could have helped him, like he helped me - I would have been there for him, I would have understood..._

He shook his head slightly, as though reading her thoughts. “Anyway - no sensory overload for me. No senses to speak of - I couldn’t touch or taste or smell... could turn invisible though and walk through walls and all that stuff, although I wasn’t actually technically a ghost. Fred said she didn’t know what to make of me.” 

He smiled: “She was one of Angel’s friends. Science-girl. Looked after me. Reminded me of Tara sometimes. She was - _kind_. Genuine, y'know? Anyway, I couldn’t leave LA. Kept popping up back at Angel’s new place. So although I wanted to, I couldn’t get to you.” He sighed. “But - to make a long story short, sometime in November I became solid again. And then...” 

He stopped and looked down. “There is this prophecy about a vampire with a soul. A Champion who’ll fight in the Apocalypse. Everyone obviously thought it was Angel, but apparently dying to save the world moves you up the ranks. I’m in the running. Only the universe doesn’t like unsolved problems - my being ‘real’ again made a tear in the fabric of reality. There was this whole thing with an extra bit of prophecy that turned out to be complete bullshit, but I did have the pleasure of beating up Angel!” 

He smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. It was only there for a second however, and vanished as soon as he continued talking. 

“The Senior Partners fixed the wonkiness - for now anyway. There’s a whole long story behind it all that’s not really important. What matters is, that I set off to see you Buffy - I got my boat ticket and everything, but then... “ 

There was a distant look in his eyes, and she suddenly remembered that night in the church when he had told her about his soul. Before she could think of anything to say however, he looked at her. “I did a lot of thinking when I was a ghost - not much else to do really. I thought about me and you, about what we did - what I did... the good and the bad. Do you - do you remember the time I came back to Sunnydale after Dru dumped me?” 

She nodded. 

“I said I was love’s bitch then, and it was true. Now if I ran to you, I wouldn’t be any different from who I was back then. The whole dying in fire and glory wouldn’t matter...” He stopped, his face sombre: “Buffy - the _universe_ was unstabilised because *I* existed! And the implications of that kinda threw me. So, I decided to work things out properly for once. Never had any patience, but the ghost thing must have taught me something. So, I waited and tried to think - not a strong point either. Took time. Especially with all the drinking I got done too. The thing is - I once told you that I had stopped dreaming about a crypt for two with a white picket fence. And I still can’t see it happening. It hurts like hell, but I’m used to that now. Been used to it for a long time.”

He stopped again, but then continued, as though worried that she was going to contradict him. 

“So, I stayed in LA - I tried to do all the hero stuff, saving damsels in distress and what not. Or, as it’s more commonly known - patrolling. Not like Angel had the time anymore. Didn’t have it bad, truth be told - had a little basement flat, as many demons as I liked to kill, Angel’s mates to talk to and Angel himself to annoy when I was bored. He got tired of me hanging around though, and offered to make me a kind of rogue agent, sort of Bond without the tux. It was mighty tempting, but then... then Fred died.” 

There was sadness and hurt in his voice now, and she recalled Angel’s grim ‘everyone’. Spike wasn’t looking at her anymore, his eyes suddenly lost somewhere she couldn’t follow... He sighed and tiredly ran a hand across his face, as though trying to wipe away painful memories. She wanted to take his hand, to hold him, but she knew that it wasn’t the right time. 

Then he pulled himself together and explained how and why Fred had died, and what had happened next: “There’s an apocalypse happening right now Buffy... and not just _an_ apocalypse, but _the_ Apocalypse. We stopped it for a while, but the ultimate outcome is anyone’s guess. And we’re bound to it - if we don’t fight, the world might fall because of our neglect. We can’t risk that. _You_ were the one who made me a Champion, and-”

A strange light came into his eyes, stubborn and proud, “- I discovered a reason for fighting, an actual purpose in my life. A - a mission if you will. Something other than love to motivate me. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt these last few years - and I’m a slow learner - it’s that I can’t build my life on love alone. Buffy - I can’t stay.”

She sat very, very still trying to understand what had just happened. In the space of a few hours she had just found and lost the man she had been mourning for more than a year. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Spike was _hers_. _She_ used to be his reason to exist. And _she_ was the one with the mission and the destiny, _she_ was the one who couldn’t commit. They were supposed to talk and she’d yell and he’d be sorry, and then he would stay because that’s what he did. He did what she wanted. Until now...

He reached out and touched her face, just like that night when he had given her back hope. But this time she didn’t flinch, although he had now taken hope away. She looked at him and closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears. 

“Buffy... when I died I gave you a new beginning. A beginning where you can have a normal life if you want. Where you can have children and grandchildren and not have to fight alone. Where you won’t have to worry about whether you’ll live to 25. You deserve a happy ending - I don’t.”

His words brought back a barrage of painful memories, and suddenly she saw red. Jumping off the bed, she turned and faced him, eyes flashing: “You don’t get to do this! I’ve been through this crap once with Angel already - ‘you deserve a normal life blah, blah, blah...’ did he give you a special handbook explaining how best to break up with me?”

Spike looked at her, mouth open and looking as though she had just punched him. Then his eyes slowly narrowed and he asked her, a dangerous edge to his voice: “What _exactly_ does Angel have to do with this?” 

She could see that this could very quickly develop into a full-blown argument, as he continued, voice eerily calm: “And what do you mean ‘break up’? As far as I know we were never actually dating.”

“That’s so not the point!” she countered, trying to quell the overwhelming urge she had to use her fists, “I just never thought that you’d be the one to start lecturing me on what my life should be like! Maybe I don’t want children all that much... maybe - maybe I want you more.”

Spike looked so shell-shocked that she completely forgot what she was going to say next. He stared at her with eyes that were as terrified as that night after she got the scythe - then he spoke again, cutting through her thoughts: “Do you really mean that?”

She was unable to answer... _‘Were you there with me?’ ‘I was.’ ‘What does that mean?’_ She still didn’t know. There had been so little time and he hadn’t pushed the issue. But now... 

Spike tilted his head and looked at her earnestly. “Could you see us have an actual future? A life? If I asked... would you marry me?”

She looked at him dumbfounded. “M...M...Marry?” she asked feebly and sat down on the bed again, not feeling certain that her legs could support her any more. “As in white dress and rings and a priest?”

“As in everything Buffy.” He stopped and frowned slightly. “See, this is the bit that I could never get to fit when I tried to think it through. Because I did - over and over again, back when I was a ghost walking around the empty corridors of Wolfram & Hart at night... could it ever have worked? We were off the scale of the dysfunction-o-meter, we hurt each other so much...” He swallowed. “If... if I could offer you a life - not just undying love, but an actual future - could you be with me forever? Could we work? Could we take all the crap and work through it?”

She just looked at him, unable to make her brain function. This was not at all what she had expected - this was bigger and more complicated than anything she had dealt with in a long, long time. She felt stranded far away from all familiar landmarks and had no idea what to say. She was no longer the young girl who had written ‘Buffy & Angel 4-ever!’ on her schoolbooks... forever had stopped being an option a long time ago.

He smiled lightly, obviously comprehending her predicament. “Buffy, you don’t have to answer and it’s not like I could stay even if I wanted to. And well... Angel told me about the whole cookie thing, so I guess you’re not ready to make that kind of decision. Figuring out who you are takes a good while - took me long enough, but I think I’m getting a pretty good idea.” 

He looked down, serious again now. “And you not being there helped... it’s hard to think stuff through when I’m with you. I just want to be whoever you need. And that is....” he thought for a moment, “It’s not enough, you deserve more than that. Spike the lovesick puppy is not someone you need.”

She didn’t know what to say, but she thought that she was beginning to understand him and although it hurt, she was also proud of him - of how far he had come. Further than her she realised. He knew who he was now. He had chosen his path, eyes open and knowing what he had to give up. 

Suddenly bashful, Spike spoke again:

“But... did you mean what you said? I mean... you gave me so much more than I ever thought possible - you believed in me, you let me be close, you chose me as your Champion, but...” 

He looked at her and his eyes were blue and full of sadness. “Could I... could I have been The One?”

_I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You're a hell of a woman. You're the one, Buffy._

His words were still etched in her mind, and she finally grasped what he was trying to say. She swallowed and asked a question that had been burning in her for more than a year now. “Was that why you said no, when I told you that I loved you...in...in the Hellmouth? Because I didn’t love you like you love me?” 

He seemed taken aback. “Em, no not really. I think...” There came a far-away look in his eyes. “I didn’t need it. I just wanted you to get the hell out of there and love someone who wasn’t dying.” 

Slowly his eyes focussed on hers. “It was all so clear to me.” 

She smiled then, as she lost herself in his eyes. “I know. I remember. And I was happy for you... I was sad for me, but I remembered that peace and clarity. Spike...” 

She was whispering now, leaning into him, their eyes locked together. “I think that for a long time I was scared because I knew that if I gave in... if I let myself really love you there would be no way back. There would be only you. Only you Spike.”

Their foreheads touching, he softly breathed her name, but she silently covered his mouth with her own, and the world became soft and dark like velvet as they slowly sank down into the bed, words no longer needed.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy was kissing Spike and she was happy. There was room for no other thought or feeling. She could feel his arms around her, his cool hands slowly finding their way underneath her pretty lacy top, just as her hands were exploring the body she had thought gone forever. The disconnected sensation that she had carried with her for so long slowly vanished as their bodies instinctively moulded to each other; memory upon memory becoming solid reality beneath her fingers. Like magic all the different pieces in her mind joined up and life made sense again, like a completed jigsaw puzzle. Because Spike was kissing her, and that was all that mattered...

A sudden loud, prolonged crash from the sitting room abruptly brought them back to the present. 

Wide eyed they looked at each other. 

“Oh, God Buffy...” Spike seemed unable to finish the sentence. The silence stretched out between them as they lay frozen on the bed, until Buffy began to smile. Then she chuckled. Spike’s face, which had been full of uncertainty, started to relax. She pulled a hand out from where it had been caressing his back and gently stroked his face. He was so beautiful. All she wanted to do was to look at him forever.

She shook her head, trying to get her thoughts in order: 

“Sometimes I just realise how my life makes _no_ sense at all and... I’d rather laugh than cry.”

She stopped and re-considered. “Actually I’d rather be kissing you than either of those two, but I guess we should stop... kissing leads to - y’know - _other things_.” 

“It does rather,” he replied, as he softly caressed her back, then sighed and slowly let her go.

She smiled again and sat up, carefully rearranging her clothes. “I think it’s my default setting. I have a problem, have sex with Spike.”

He chuckled slightly: “Well, it’s a shame we can’t solve all our problems that way. Tried it, remember? Doesn’t work. Well not for us anyway.” 

She pouted. “But we’re so good at it - it ought to work.” 

This time he laughed and his eyes twinkled as he answered her: “Got that right little Miss 5-hours-straight.” 

Then he looked at her, eyes turning wistful: “If it wasn’t for Angel...” He let the sentence hang unfinished and sighed as he tried to smooth down his hair.

His words brought up another question, and after hesitating a bit, she asked: “What’s with you and Angel? You always hated each other - how come you’re suddenly best friends?”

Spike shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Not friends Buffy - _family_. There’s a big difference. We’ve got blood-ties, a _long_ shared history and, well, tons of other stuff. Also... we lost everyone else. It was hard enough for me, and I only knew these people for a year. But Angel - he worked with them for so long, they were more than friends.” 

He was silent for a little while, then tried to explain: “If you can imagine losing all the Scoobies and Giles, Dawn being sent to live with an adoptive family and having to fight the First Evil with - oh, Faith and Glory as your companions, you’ll get the idea.”

She nodded. Life had been so quiet this past year - no big fights, no big problems, just trying to rebuild her life, and suddenly she was looking into someone else’s life - someone who had lost more than she had.

“I - I’m sorry about that. You should have called. I could have come with all the Slayers and helped you fight.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, he looked at her sadly. “Too late now, pet. And this isn’t your fight.”

“But it could be! I could come with you and try to take down the Senior Partners or whatever you’re doing.” 

“Oh, no, I need you safe! The last thing we need is the Council to be in the firing line. The Slayers are doing a very important job.”

“But I just want to be with you. If you can’t stay, I want to go with you - Dawn’s going off to university next year, so there’ll be nothing to keep me here.”

He looked at her with wonder. "You would do that?”

She nodded emphatically.

Then he shook his head. “Sorry. Not letting you. You’re not going to throw your life away just because I got caught up in a stupid apocalypse. And there is this other thing...”

“ _Another_ thing?” 

“Come - come here?” He drew her close into a hug, and held her, unmoving. Then he spoke, voice suddenly unsure: “Another way we could be together, and... that’s another reason I decided to stay and fight with Angel.”

She turned her head and looked at him, and she saw the hesitation in his eyes. “Go on,” she said gently.

He took her hand and then spoke: “Well, this prophecy I mentioned - it also tells what will happen to the souled vampire after the big fight.” He stopped and his eyes unfocussed, obviously trying to recall the exact wording: “The vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will _Shanshu_. Bugger of a word that - ‘Shanshu’ - took Wesley a long time to work out apparently. It means - it means that the vampire will become human.” 

Buffy knew she had heard what he’d said, but the words refused to make any sort of sense to her and she repeated the last word parrot-like, trying to understand what he was telling her: “Human?” 

Spike nodded. “It’s a reward I guess. For services rendered to the bloody Powers That Be. So you see, I thought that maybe if it was me - if I was the one...” He stopped and then continued, speaking rapidly, like a barrier had been removed: “We could actually have a real life together, with the house and the white picket fence and the kids and the wedding in the park where we’d have ‘Wind beneath my wings’ for the first dance...” He stopped abruptly and looked at their hands, entwined. “Of course, considering that this apocalypse is gonna take around a thousand years according to our sources and that I only have a fifty-fifty chance... “ He swallowed. “I know it’s a bloody long shot Buffy, but as far as I can see, it’s the only faintly realistic chance.”

Buffy was staring at him as though she’d never seen him before. She blinked a few times, which probably made her look stupid, but she was for once completely thrown. As she tried to think, she said the first thing that came to mind: “But... but I thought you _liked_ being a vampire!”

Spike’s mouth fell open. Then he frowned, but before he could speak, she cut in: “I mean, you said that becoming a vampire made you feel alive for the first time... and *I* like you just the way you are. I... I don’t know what you’d be like human. Would you be who you are now? Or who you were back then, whoever that was?”

He stared at her in shock: “I don’t... bloody hell, you don’t think they’d somehow turn me back into William, do you? That wouldn’t be a reward, it’d be a bloody cosmic joke.”

“What do you mean? What were you like then... what was William like?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he lifted his hand and gently followed the lines of her face with the tip of a finger. There was a soft look in his eyes and she really didn’t know what to make of him - he seemed to change every other moment.

“Buffy... can I see you again? We’ll be here for a week, and apart from tomorrow night, when I guess we’ll be looking for our contact, we have no plans. We don’t tend to stay anywhere very long because of Wolfram and Hart and this thing they have where they try to kill us all the time, but I suppose they’ll leave us alone for this week. So I just thought... maybe we could go out one night? On... on a date maybe? I’m not sure how safe it’d be, and I really don’t want them to come after you or Dawn, I just... I’d like to see you. Talk to you. Without anyone else around. I might... just _might_ tell you about William.” 

A date... now that word brought back some memories... a fake stake-out, a flask, a declaration... how things had changed. She thought about what he’d said about danger - but she felt fairly certain that she was as safe as could be. If these lawyers were as smart as they were supposed to be, they wouldn’t pick on the Head Slayer or her family. And The Council was nearly back to full strength. Giles had once told her that they could do nearly anything at the stroke of a pen. No, Evil Inc didn’t worry her.

When she told him so, he smiled widely and asked for her phone number...

****

When they came out of the bedroom a little later, they found Angel gloomily watching the TV and Illyria inspecting the scythe. 

“This is old, but its power has gone.”

Buffy looked at her and suddenly remembered that she was looking at the body of a dead girl who had once been Spike’s friend. Now inhabited by a pure demon god from ancient times. This was weird, but in a strangely familiar and comforting way - it was Sunnydale weird. She smiled.

“Um, it’s what was used for creating all the Slayers, as in activating them... did Spike tell you about that?”

Illyria was silent, as though searching for something, before she spoke: “The young boy called Andrew explained it many months ago. He failed to mention the source of the power.” 

She turned it over in her hands, as though enchanted. “It calls to me, even though it is empty. There are few things in this world with such potency.” 

She appeared to be lost in a world of her own, and Spike turned to Angel: “Right, grandad. Sun’ll be up in not too long, we’d better go.”

Angel looked from him to Buffy with an unreadable face and slowly got up. “All... _talked_... out then?”

Knowing she’d just say something wrong if she tried to answer that question, Buffy searched for a change of subject and went with the first thing that came to mind: “What was that big crash we heard? Did anything break?”

Angel sent her a look that said _"I’m getting the brushoff for Captain Peroxide!”_ as clearly as though he had spoken the words out loud, but then his face closed and he answered her question smoothly, expression polite and almost impersonal. “I tried to put the tape back when the show finished and then the whole pile collapsed. I’m afraid not even vampire reflexes can catch 23 videotapes all at the same time.”

Buffy cast a glance towards the TV, and her tapes were now stacked in two neat piles, one on each side.

“I’m going to get a cabinet for all of them... I mean we had one, but then there was this incident while Andrew was staying and..” her voice trailed off, as she realised that she was babbling. _Think Buffy! Say something useful!_

“So, em, where are you going to go? I mean you could stay here if you like? Dawn won’t be back until Thursday.”

Both vampires shook their heads, but Spike was the one who replied: “Too risky. And I know a place we could go anyway.”

Angel frowned. “Why did you never mention this before?”

Spike shrugged. “Didn’t think about it. Should be OK though - Dru and I stayed there once. Ought to remember me.” And he grinned.

Angel sighed. “Fine. I can’t be bothered arguing. Buffy... it was nice to see you.”

“You too Angel.” She smiled her biggest smile as she nodded, feeling like a complete idiot. _Jeez, how civilised and awkward. Mom would have been so proud._

There was more awkwardness at the door, but after a few half-hugs and almost-kisses, she finally closed the door behind them and leaned on it heavily, closing her eyes. Well, at least it had gone a lot better than that time when Angel met Riley...

And she went to bed, too exhausted to notice the message on her answering machine.


	7. Chapter 7

‘The place’ Spike had mentioned was indeed still there. It was a small, grubby hotel with a bar attached, as unassuming a place as could be found in all of Rome. When Angel complained, Spike pointed out that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if he’d rather go to a fancy hotel where Wolfram and Hart knew every guest before they finished checking in, that was fine! Angel sighed deeply at this and gave up.

A short, greyish demon opened the door after a prolonged period of knocking and grumped at them, but as soon as he recognised Spike he was friendliness itself. Knowing that this particular demon had an unending appetite for war-stories, Spike explained who Illyria was and the demon was fawning at her feet in seconds, obviously pleasing the God in some small way, because she decided he would be fit to worship her and hear her tales of glory. 

The odd pair out of the way, Spike helped himself to all the best bottles of alcohol behind the bar and sat down at a wobbly table, pushing a glass towards Angel. He was finally beginning to convince Angel of the benefits of alcohol as a cure-all, and this seemed another perfect opportunity. He didn’t want this - didn’t want another difficult talk, but he knew that he owed Angel that much at least. 

As he closed his eyes and let the whiskey’s artificial heat warm him, he could still feel Buffy’s kisses on his lips, see the look in her eyes as she whispered “Only you Spike...” and all he wanted to do was to hide away, to savour the memories over and over. His arms felt empty, his hands restless, his heart as though someone had played ping-pong with it. But he knew that he’d come out the winner, no matter that it felt like he’d just lost her all over again. So he drank and waited for his grandsire to say something.

After a lengthy period of silent drinking, Angel spoke: “So Buffy loves you.”

Spike nodded, before emptying another glass of Jack Daniels. “Yeah. I mean I knew she loved me, just not... not like that. As in the long haul guy...” He sighed and stared ahead, before he noticed Angel’s expression. “What?”

“It’s just... I thought I’d always be... well first in her heart or something.”

Spike scoffed, but then his expression suddenly changed and he looked at his grandsire, eyes narrowing. “Tell me Angel - is she first in _your_ heart?”

There was a look of utter surprise on Angel’s face, and Spike continued. “Would you have done the deal with Wolfram & Hart to save _her_?”

Very slowly Angel shook his head. 

Spike nodded in satisfaction. “See? You get to have a kid, I get to have Buffy... well for a few days anyway. Although if the Shanshu turns out to be yours I’d be mighty tempted to chuck in the whole Champion thing and just settle down and marry her.”

At Angel’s shocked look, he chuckled joylessly. “Well, it’s nice to dream, innit? ‘S all I’ve got left anyway.”

At this Angel poured another drink for himself, then sat up and after a moment's hesitation started speaking, words slow and awkward. “Spike... there’s something I need to tell you.”

Spike looked at him warily. “Yeah? You said something like that when we were outside Buffy’s door.”

Angel took a deep unnecessary breath and downed his drink. “You know that day - the last day, when we took out the members of the Black Thorn?”

A cautious nod.

“That morning the Circle summoned me for a special meeting. They...” he swallowed, “they wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to switch sides, so they asked me to sign away my possible reward for fighting for The Powers.”

Spike stared at him wide eyed. “You signed away...”

Angel nodded tiredly. “I signed away the Shanshu. In my own blood. Which makes _you_ the one with the destiny, just like you said.” He poured another drink. “And the universe is stable again I suppose. A side benefit.”

Spike knew that Angel was watching him. He could feel his fingers tighten their grip around the glass and forced himself to relax. No need to end up with a bleeding hand on top of everything else... He took a deep breath. The shanshu was his - hello destiny! Hello shiny, intangible reward! He looked up: “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I... I don’t know. Didn’t seem important.”

Spike could feel his temper rising, anger running through his veins like fire. He tried to keep his voice calm when he replied, but didn’t succeed very well: “Not _important_? This is my bloody _life_ we’re talking about!”

Angel looked down. “Didn’t think we’d last this long, Spike. But you’re right - I should have told you.”

There was a long silence. Spike turned his glass around in his hands, observing the golden liquid within. He wasn’t even sure what he felt anymore. He could feel the demon part of him howling within, pent-up frustration begging to be released. His slightly more rational side told him to just get completely plastered. It wasn’t like there were any shortcuts when it came to prophecies... he lifted his head: “You sure that there isn’t a real Cup of Torment somewhere? I’d happily have a swig of that, if it’d hurry things along.”

Angel sighed, but Spike continued, suddenly warming to his subject: “Not that these fairy-tale things always go according to plan. You just end up with an ogre instead of Prince Charming.”

Angel now looked more puzzled than annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about Spike?”

A frown. “Did you never see Shrek?”

Angel shook his head mutely.

“Oh, you missed out! Maybe Buffy has it - and the sequel. Never did see that what with the the big battle and running for our lives.”

Angel stared at him. 

Spike stared back: “ _What?_ ”

“You just found out that you are the Champion destined to fight in the apocalypse, and you’re talking about a movie?”

“Why not? I’d like to beat you up, but that’s not really an option anymore, is it? What do you want me to do? Sit around wailing? Do the Snoopy dance of joy?”

Angel didn’t know what to say.

“Actually the Shrek analogy is rather apt, if I do say so myself. Of course I’m a helluva lot prettier than the green lump and Buffy could out-bitch Fiona any day, but all that opposites attract and the princess has a dark side...”

“Did you just call Buffy a bitch?” Angel asked, slowly, trying not to let his temper rise.

“Noooo, I said she could out-bitch Fiona,” Spike stopped and reconsidered. “I guess that implies some bitchiness - so, yeah, I sort of did. Why? Just because I worship the ground she walks on, doesn’t mean that I’m _blind_. Running hot and cold on me for years. Could go from snogging my face off to beating the crap out of me in seconds. She’s a complex little thing, is Buffy, but one thing I’ve learned is that when she gets desperate, she gets mean. Bitch doesn’t even begin to cover it. That whole: _I’m the Slayer and I know best, so shut up and do as you’re told!_ ”

Spike stopped, then continued before Angel had time to say anything. “Of course that sort of has to be taken alongside the: _No one will ever love me because I’m too scared to let anyone get close. And what if they found out who I am and what I’ve done?_ ” 

He held up the glass again, the whiskey creating golden highlights an his face as he smiled. “Of course I like to think that I proved her wrong on both accounts. She seems to have gotten over most of it now anyway.”

Angel wanted to say something, but what? The woman you just described is someone I never knew? Had Buffy really changed that much? Was she so far from the girl he had fallen in love with?

Spike seemed to read his mind. “She might not have finished baking, but *I* know what flavour cookie she’ll be. Was there when most of the ingredients were mixed.” A wry smile. “Y’know for a girl as inarticulate as her, that is a very good analogy.”

“Inarticulate?”

“Please - she’s practically incapable of saying what she means - when it comes to love anyway. Although it’s amazing what a year can do.”

Angel pinched the bridge of his nose, as though in pain. “Spike - can we not talk about this? The sun is up already and I’m actually really tired. As long as you never kiss her again when I’m present, I’d rather just let the whole subject lie.”

Spike shrugged. “Whatever suits you mate. But I should probably warn you that she agreed to go on a date with me, so once we’ve found the contact I’m gonna take off.”

Angel shook his head in disbelief: “You’re going on a _date_?”

“Well - we never did before. Thought it’s be nice to show her a good time.”

“You slept with her, but never went on a date?” Angel’s voice sounded surprised.

Spike looked at him gloomily. “Well, we didn’t have that kind of relationship. And after I got the soul there was The First Evil which kinda ruined any romance. So I figured it’d be nice to have some happy memories in amongst all the pain. But you’re right, it’s late - we should go to bed.”

**************

It was late afternoon when they woke up. Looking through the blinds, they could see the golden sunlight falling on the buildings, creating deep shadows in the narrow streets. It was a familiar sight for Spike - he and Dru had once had this exact same room. They had stayed for a good few months, so he had observed the view many, many times. The people were differently clad and the traffic had increased considerably... but the houses were essentially the same and he suddenly felt a strange pang. One day - if he played his cards right and fought well enough, he would be walking in that sunlight. He would feel that warmth on his skin with no fear... might walk with someone (he dared not think of Buffy) pushing a pram, like the couple he could see at the far edge of the small square. He was surprised at how shaken he suddenly felt. Last night he had been too tired, too worn out after his meeting with Buffy to really take in the implications. To be human again... he thought of Anya and her many plans, trying to cram all the living she could find into one life. Actual living, not pretending. Carrying again the burdens he had once so happily left behind. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and he sighed deeply. Seeing Angel perusing the view, he wondered what his thoughts were. Regret? Relief? 

“About the Shanshu...”

“Huh?” Angel turned, slowly tearing his eyes off the sun drenched vista.

“Are you not at all pissed off?”

Angel shrugged. “I guess. I just figured that it probably wouldn’t come my way anyway. The stuff I’ve done... not as Angelus, just me these last few years. And I had this... epiphany once. It was - it was after I slept with Darla, trying to lose my soul. You know that moment when you’ve hit rock bottom and you realise something has to change?”

Spike looked at him and nodded, eyes narrowing as he tried to conceal the effect of Angel’s words. “Yeah, I’ve had a couple of those,” he said guardedly.

“Really?” There was an odd note of expectation in Angel’s voice and Spike sighed. “Well, one of them was about my mum, but you know that. The other one...” He stopped and stared out of the window, but only saw darkness and shadows from the past. 

_“Ask me again why I could never love you.”_

_“It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing.”_

“The other one made me get my soul. And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever tell you about that!” Angel kept looking at him, but he didn’t move or change expression, so Angel continued:

“Well, if I’m not the one - if there is no bigger plan for me... if nothing I do matters, then all that matters is what I do.” He stopped, then slowly continued. “To be a champion is to live as though the world is as it should be!”

Spike nodded as another memory was revisited. “One bright shining moment.....”

“Yes. And to be honest... I’m tired of being a puppet for the Powers. For nearly ten years they’ve run my life. Sure I wasn’t doing anything with it before, but I wonder if the world mightn’t have been a better place if I wasn’t still living in the gutter somewhere. But no... they sent me a guide who showed me Buffy. Much good that did her. Then I came to LA, and they sent Doyle and his visions. Only he died and passed them onto Cordy.”

His hand on the window frame suddenly tightened, the knuckles turning white. “And after that they just kept screwing with me and everyone around me. Along with Wolfram and Hart of course. I’ll never forgive them for what they did to Darla and Cordy.” 

There was old anger in his voice, deep and unchanging, and Spike cast a glance at him. Neither them was watching the view anymore.

“The only good thing I managed to preserve was Connor and it cost me my redemption and the lives of all my friends.” He turned to look at Spike. ”Don’t get me wrong - I’ll never regret it. I _can’t_ regret it. But the price was high... I lost the shanshu a long time ago. Signing the paper was just a formality. And I guess I’m sort of glad it’s going to be you, at least this way it stays in the family.”

Spike was speechless. What had brought this on? They had been close this past summer, since the spring even, when Fred had died, sweeping their differences under the rug for the sake of the fight. And after the night in the alley... well, things had been different. Suicide pacts usually meant that you died for good - there wasn’t supposed to be a morning after. And if there was... what the hell did you do?


	8. Chapter 8

Standing by a window in Rome, the air still warm after a day of sunshine, the hellish battle in an alley in LA seemed a lifetime and a world away. Looking back, Spike was still astounded that he hadn’t been killed. There was a quote stuck in his head that he couldn't place, that summed it all up: “Life’s a bitch and then you don’t die.” How many times now had he met certain death head on and yet somehow survived? Having to pick himself up again and continue fighting...

_For Spike the pain had been familiar. There had been 147 days when he had been in this situation before - the bonds of grief tying him to people he’d otherwise try to avoid. Fighting alongside someone with the face of a girl he once held dear. It was the same and yet different. There was less guilt - this time, he had saved the child. And the bonds to Angel... well, that’s where it all got complicated._

He had woken up in an unfamiliar place, but had sensed enough to figure out that he was in a bed, his entire body was in pain and there was blood nearby. He had found a large jug and swallowed the contents in one go, passing out as the empty jug dropped to the floor. 

Next time he woke, he was able to take in the surroundings a bit more. He was lying in what might be a hotel of some kind, although it had obviously been empty for a long while. The jug was by his bedside, refilled, and it was only as he put it down on the floor that he realised that it had contained human blood. Eyes widening he finally looked around and saw that in the bed next to him was Angel, although he appeared to be asleep still. Feeling rather spooked he tried to sit up, but the instant agony told him that he was obviously still badly hurt... a good few ribs were cracked and one leg felt unusually dead. At that moment Illyria entered the room, and when she saw that he was awake, spoke. “Do not move. Your injuries are grievous and you need to rest and mend.” 

He blinked. Illyria acting as a nurse was something he had never envisaged. But if she had brought the blood... “Where did you get the blood from?” he asked, eyeing her wearily. It was perfectly possible that she had gone out and drained the first few people she had seen. He hoped not, but with her you never knew. 

“I found a place of healing that had much blood in storage, just like the facilities of Wolfram and Hart. I took sufficient for both of you.” He nodded gratefully and sank back in the bed, conscience laid to rest.

 

They had stayed in their hiding place for a few days, until they were mostly healed. Illyria brought more blood - always human, although they asked her not to - and after a while even Angel felt the silence between them oppressive. So they had talked. Trying to work out what to do, where to go and what had happened during the fight. Angel had lasted longer and Spike felt cheated. 

“Well - it’s probably because I ate Hamilton just before the big battle... he had the power of the Senior Partners in his blood.” 

“A-ha,” Spike answered, “Was that why you could kill the dragon also? Or was that just practice, what with living with one for 150 years?” 

Angel had responded to this casual remark with such fierce protectiveness that Spike had been taken aback. Angelus had called Darla far worse than a dragon back in the day, so why this sudden anger? Then he recalled what Dru had told him in Sunnydale years ago, and asked what had happened to Darla and Dru once she’d gone back to LA alone. This had caused brooding of hitherto unseen proportions, but finally Angel had made up his mind and told Spike the whole story. Going back several years to when Wolfram & Hart had first brought Darla back as human and relating everything that had passed since. Spike had at first found it hard to believe it all - especially when Angel told him about Connor - but knowing that it was much too far-fetched to be made up, he listened quietly, not wanting to stop Angel’s sudden openness.

“Funny how history has a habit of repeating itself,” Spike thought later when they were half-asleep again. “Although Angel’s secret’s a hell of a lot more complicated than Buffy’s was. Well, at least he isn’t likely to start kissing me...” he frowned as he cast a glance at his grandsire and decided to make him call Nina as soon as possible. 

When they were finally ready to leave, one more surprise was waiting. Illyria had come to see them sporadically, but she seemed preoccupied and they wondered what she had been doing. Leaving the Hyperion they found out. In the garden there were now two graves - one for Gunn, one for Wesley. More surprising was that they had tombstones. Gunn’s was small and simple, bearing the words: ‘Charles Gunn, a brave fighter’. Wesley’s was larger and bore this inscription: ‘Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Great Watcher and Warrior, The One who always sought The Truth.’ The writing was hard to make out, as the stone was covered with the rotting corpse of Cyvus Vail. The vampires stood speechless for a long time, wondering how this had happened. Illyria never explained.

They had decided to go to England and made their way across America as fast as possible, but with a great many fights on the way. It was obvious that Wolfram & Hart wasn’t going to let them get away without a fight, but strangely the demons sent to kill them were never very numerous. Nevertheless, the constant battles were wearing them down, and when they finally found a boat they were very relieved. During the voyage Spike reflected on how his life had changed since his last boat journey abroad. Pain was mostly what he could remember - pain, guilt and ghosts. At least he was his own man now.

They stayed in London for a good while, recuperating more thoroughly. Their tentative relationship with the new Council brought a temporary halt to the attacks, and Giles let them have free reign of the facilities. Until one day they discovered something in the Council’s library. An old book, brought in by Roger Wyndam-Pryce, which contained a mesmerising hint of a way to get at the Senior Partners. And so their wandering through Europe had begun, slowly zigzagging their way south as one clue led to another. Until they came to Rome. 

***********

The view from their room - deadly sunshine and oblivious people; so much light and life just outside their reach. Maybe forever. They both knew how fickle prophecies could be, how higher powers would happily use them for their own purposes. They fought the darkness because that was what they had chosen, no matter the reason, although sometimes Spike wondered about Angel’s motivations. Was he only fighting because there was nothing else for him to do? It seemed like he was finally going to find out.

Angel looked at him, eyes hard. “I’m free now, I can do what I want. And what I want is revenge. I want to destroy the Senior Partners, in any way I can. I’ll do whatever I have to. I know I’ll never be able to touch the Powers, but at least I have the satisfaction of having seen one of them dead at my feet. And..." a short hesitation, then in a softer voice: "I want a better world for my son. A world where he doesn’t have to fight.”

He stopped and his eyes grew distant, before he turned to look at Spike again: “As for Buffy... it hurts, but I don’t think it would ever have worked out. I’m not the man she fell in love with - not even close. She deserves better.”

Spike looked at him open-mouthed.

Angel chuckled slightly. “I’m not saying she should go for you. Still have no idea what she sees in you, but I know enough not to interfere... she’s very stubborn.”

Spike slowly shook his head: “Why... why are you telling me all this now?”

Angel shrugged and looked out the window again. “Dunno. Thought I’d better get it all out of the way.”

Spike nodded, then a thought struck him: “You don’t think I’m putting Buffy in danger, do you? She said she wasn’t worried, but she doesn’t know Wolfram & Hart...”

The older vampire mused on this, then shook his head, a small smile on his face: “Until yesterday she was dating The Immortal. If Ilona hears that she’s now seeing you, she’ll probably just think that Buffy has a penchant for a certain type...”

“Riiiight...” Spike replied, not sure whether he should be offended or not. 

Letting the subject drop, Angel turned around and walked back to his bed picking up his shirt. “Shall we get some dinner?”

Spike considered. “Think the place is ‘self-catering’... well it was 50 years ago anyway.”

Angel sighed. “Fine. Let’s leave it until we’ve found our guy.”

“OK. Will just give Buffy a call, and we can be on our way. Presume Illyria is still here.”

**************

They had to wait for a long time before their next meal. Their contact turned out to be a very elusive character, and failed to show up. Trying to call the number he had left them, they got a message that the phone had been disconnected. 

The contact was supposed to have taken them to a demon-lord, but trying to find him on their own became increasingly difficult. The town was full of old, important demon-families and trying to find out which one their contact had been working for was practically impossible. Also the town was teeming with demons, all of them apparently spoiling for a tussle. At first it was a great release to be able to fight and Spike relished the opportunity to vent all his pent-up frustration, but as the night went on and there seemed no end to the boneheads who challenged them, it began to wear them out; even Illyria became wearied of the constant brawling. 

At around 2 in the morning Spike found himself standing in front of a shop-window, absentmindedly admiring a motorbike. Angel, who was by now in a foul mood, didn’t feel that this was a useful way to spend the time: “Spike - what the hell are you doing looking at bikes? First it was a jewellers - we’re not here to shop!”

Looking over his shoulder, Spike explained: “I used to have a bike just like that one back in Sunnydale, it was-” He noted the look on Angel’s face and gave up, turning his back on the display. It was a long night indeed.

Finally a few hours before sunrise a small, hairy demon of unknown origin was able to impart the knowledge that their contact had worked for ‘The Mighty Lord Omishkar’ who had departed to Napoli a few days before, taking all of his household with him. As they tiredly made their way back across the city, they found themselves surrounded by a large group of particularly nasty-looking demons, clearly looking for trouble. 10 minutes later the demons were all dead and Angel, Spike and Illyria covered in blood and demon guts, since the species for some reason exploded when killed.

As Spike futilely tried to clean his sword, he looked at Angel. “So what now? I guess we’d better set off for Napoli.”

Angel, who was absentmindedly poking at a demon head, thought for a a long time, brows furrowed and eyes distant. Spike kept quiet, wondering what his grandsire was pondering now... there was a grim determination on his face that didn’t bode well. Finally he spoke: 

“No. I’ll go with Illyria. You go... you go be with Buffy.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Spike, a host of conflicting emotions fighting for supremacy. “Take her out - treat her - buy her stuff... whatever makes her happy these days.”

Spike looked at him in shock, but Angel met his eyes darkly, and after a moment Spike nodded. “I see.”

“As long as you never tell me anything about what you do,” Angel added.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Spike answered with a ghost of a smile, as he slowly walked off.


	9. Chapter 9

Buffy woke slowly, head fuzzy with sleep and body warm and heavy. Mostly she felt like drifting off again, never mind how late it was... she could tell from the angle of the shadows that it was at least midday. But as she turned over, last night came tumbling back and she sat up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.

Spike! He’d been there - _alive_. And talking to her and kissing her and she’d dumped The Immortal and Angel had been there too and this weird demongod and... it hadn’t all been a dream, had it? She glanced around, trying to find something tangible to reassure her. Then her eyes fell on the bedside table and she saw his card. He’d scribbled his phone number on it last night, telling her to memorise it and then burn the card... something about the number being top-secret and the cellphone having lots of spells on it. She couldn’t really remember it all, as she slowly turned it over in her hands. On one side it just said ‘SPIKE’ in big capital letters and underneath was the number - he had surprisingly neat handwriting. On the other side it said _‘Angel’s Avengers’_ in pretty cursive. 

Spike had _a card_... how weird was that? When she’d asked, he’d just shrugged and said that it was Angel’s idea. But somehow it just threw into sharp focus how things had changed. She sighed and tried to think it all over, one thing at a time.

_Spike was alive._

She could feel part of her saying that of course he was alive... he was the most annoying vampire she had ever come across and he had refused to die on so many occasions that it made perfect sense that he should somehow come back to life. 

And she was happy. Yes, definitely, absolutely happy. But... she frowned. Trying to analyze her feelings was something she’d been purposefully avoiding for months now... it was part of the reason she’d been dating The Immortal. 

Only now it seemed that her life had finally caught up with her and she’d have to do some serious pondering. So, she was happy and... angry. Angry that he hadn’t called or told her in any way that he was back. Especially angry that apparently _Andrew_ of all people had known, when she didn’t. Hm, she was going to make him pay for that somehow. Of course there was the fact that -

_He couldn’t stay._

It was like getting a fabulous present for Christmas and then being told that it would have to be returned. And it hurt. He was leaving just like every other man ever had. _But_.... she frowned. Why wasn’t she _more_ upset? She stared at the curtains and the golden light sneaking in through the folds and she couldn’t work it out. And then it hit her. He wasn’t leaving because of her. He was leaving because he had a job to do. He wasn’t leaving ‘for her own good’ like Angel had, or because he felt inadequate and un-needed like Riley or because ‘she needed to grow up’ like Giles. It had nothing to do with her. And he would have stayed if there hadn’t been that apocalypse. He’d been scared still, but so was she... and she was certain that she could have made him stay. 

So what now? He was here only for a week - less even because tonight he’d go out with Angel. So that left what? 6 short days. And she had to go to the big Slayer-meeting Sunday... well she could arrive late for that. It was going to last 3 days anyway. And hey - she was Buffy, Head Slayer! She could do what she wanted.

A small smile on her lips she mused on the coming week. Spike had asked her out on a date. That was good. She wanted to do things - she wanted to go places - she wanted - she wanted... she wanted happy memories. She wanted to do fun, stupid things like staying out dancing half the night or going to a fair and winning all the prizes at the shooting stand, she wanted to go to a small romantic restaurant and spend a whole evening losing herself in his eyes, wanted to take stupid pictures in a photo-booth... _photos_. She needed photos. She would have to go shopping and buy like a million rolls of film. She wanted enough pictures for a lifetime. Maybe she could even borrow a videocamera from somewhere. There was sure to be one at the Council. Oh, and she was going to dress him up too... 

One of the things she had most enjoyed going out with The Immortal had been how everyone would stop and look at them as they entered a place. Of course, she knew it had been mostly him and his fame, but she wanted that feeling again on her own merit. And she knew that with Spike at her side, they would be able to make people stop and stare, although no one would know who they were. Maybe she should dye her hair a shade lighter, so it would match his better? Well, she would go by the hairdressers and see if Antonio could squeeze her in.

She dug out a note pad and half-chewed pen and began to write a shopping list...

When she’d filled most of a page with must-have items, she started to wonder if there was anything she’d forgotten - she wanted to go patrolling with Spike one night... maybe do some training too... _training_. It was Monday! A glance at the alarm clock next to the bed showed that she was already 10 minutes late for her regular training session with the younger slayers.

Cursing under her breath, she jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. She grabbed the phone and quickly dialled the number for the Council, but no-one picked up, and she was left with the answering machine. Which meant that Johnson wasn’t there. As resident watcher he’d probably taken over training since she was late. Getting out her little address book, she found Johnson’s cellphone number and after waiting for a long time finally got through:

“Johnson? It’s Buffy! I’m so sorry, but I got home really late last night and overslept and tell the girls just to start by themselves if you haven’t started training with them already.”

There was a chuckle at the other end. “Buffy, don’t worry. We had - ah - an incident this morning, and about half the building is flooded. So the training schedule has been scrapped for the time being. I left you a message on your answering machine a few hours ago.”

Buffy glanced down, and noticed that she had two messages waiting. “Oh. Well, about patrolling...”

“Yes - I was going to mention this, apparently there was a marked increase in demon-activity last night -”

Buffy grinned. “Oh, good. Do you think it’ll last?”

“Good? What - I really don’t know, the girls just said that the town seemed restless.”

Buffy suddenly realised that she was famished and decided that talking about demons was really not something she could be bothered to do. “Listen - I’m going to get some breakfast. When you put the patrol-lists together this week, put me down for Wednesday. Alone.”

“Alone? Are you sure that’s quite safe?”

She had to stop herself from laughing out loud. She’d saved the world numerous times, but in this new world of many slayers, people kept treating her like one of the newbies - and of course she wouldn’t be alone, really.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done this a lot longer than any of the other girls, remember - and that includes Faith, who killed 5 Groxlar Beasts on her own just last week if the reports are accurate, yeah?”

Johnson, obviously feeling foolish, admitted that of course she was right, and she hung up. Oh - messages! 

She rewound the tape and pressed play. Giles’s voice came out of the speaker, but he didn’t get further than: “Buffy, em, I’m afraid we have a bit of a situation -” before she turned it off. Yup, it was Monday. It seemed that even the evils of this world took weekends off, since the number of times a problem arose on a Monday was staggeringly high. Why did Giles still insist on reporting everything to her? Yes, she was one of the most experienced people in the New Watcher’s Council, but most of these ‘incidents’ took place much too far away for her to be of any use. She sighed. It was like having some private news-channel that kept turning itself on. Thankfully she could turn it off too.

She tried to call Dawn, but only got her voice mail. She left a message saying that she had some news to tell her, and would try to pick her up at the station on Thursday.

Now for some breakfast, and then some shopping! Oh, life was _good_.

******

Later, with numerous shopping bags stacked high inside the door, she was sitting beside the phone, watching it impatiently. Why had he been so vague when he mentioned calling? Couldn’t he just have said ‘6 o’clock’ and she’d have known where she stood? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this impatient for someone to call. Searching back through the years, she could only think of the huge mistake that had been Parker. But that had hardly been the same - she didn’t remember this many butterflies for a start. As she stared at the phone, trying to use whatever powers she had to *make* him call, there was a tiny voice at the back of her head, that kept getting louder, until she couldn’t ignore it any longer. It said: “You’re falling in love Buffy, and falling hard! You were falling for him for a long time, and if he hadn’t died...” 

Then the phone rang and she jumped.

“Spike?”

A low laugh, that sent chills up her spine. “Yes, it’s me. We’re heading out in a minute, as soon as the sun goes down. This shouldn’t take too long - how about I give you another call when we’re done?”

“OK,” she replied rather breathlessly, while the thought that he had the perfect voice for phone-sex traitorously snuck into her head. After an exchange of “See you later” she hung up, feeling oddly shaken.

Returning to her former thought, she tried to work it out - was she in love? She loved him, yes, but she also loved Xander and Willow, only that was of course different. And she still loved Angel (would always love Angel), but there was a distinct lack of butterflies when he was around. But Spike... she swallowed. She could see his face as clearly as though he was standing in front of her, every detail vivid. She wished he could be there that instant, because suddenly she needed to kiss him desperately. Needed him to hold her, to reassure her that he was really alive. She wanted to inspect him, to imprint every little nook and cranny of his body on her memory, and to stir the passion that lay waiting so close under the surface... she closed her eyes and lost herself in a world of memories. The things he could do with his hands and his mouth, the look in his eyes when - she shivered involuntarily. It was more than lust, it was... letting herself be close, but not afraid. Oh God, she was in love and he was going to leave...

She forced herself to snap out of it, but before she put the shopping away she should probably listen to the message she'd been ignoring whilst waiting for Spike to call. Sighing she pressed play. “Buffy... Johnson tells me he spoke to you, so I know you’re there. Now, I have gathered some more information and come to the conclusion that the best thing to do-” Grumbling she turned off his voice and deleted the whole message. She really, really didn’t want to know about Council business. At first she had conscientiously listened to every message, but as the months had passed, she worked out that the only ones she needed to pay attention to were the ‘problem-solved’ ones. Andrew’s stay had only reinforced this, since he would talk day and night about every single little problem he heard of. She had sent him packing at the first opportunity.

Oh - she needed to put the blood in the fridge.

*******

It was near midnight before Spike called again, voice tense and tired, telling her just to go to bed - things were _not_ going to plan, and they might spend the whole night trying to find out what had happened to their contact and working out who the guy had worked for.

Although she didn’t feel tired, she fell asleep quickly, and only reluctantly got out of bed at 5 am when there was a persistent knocking on the door. Halfway there she woke sufficiently to realise that it must be Spike and hurried her feet along. Even the obligatory nightmare-scenarios that flitted through her brain didn’t prepare her for what awaited her when she opened the door. Spike was leaning against the door frame, barely able to stand up straight, and covered in blood and disgusting bits of demon-gore, looking as though he was about to faint. When he saw her, however, his face lit up in a tired smile:

“Buffy - Guess what! Angel ‘n the Blue Wonder have buggered off to Napoli. Won’t be back for _days_. It’s just you’n’me, pet.” He grinned, tried to stand up straight, but had to reach out to steady himself on the door frame.

Heart in her throat, she gently helped him in, stomping down on her initial impulse to freak out.

“What happened? How hurt are you?” she asked as she sat him down in a chair (the sofa had been very expensive, and she really couldn’t afford the dry-cleaning bills on top of everything else).

“Oh, I’m not hurt,” he said, trying to shrug nonchalantly, but she sent him a look that told him to stop being an idiot.

“But I’m not!” he insisted, “’M just... tired, and I don’t think I’ve eaten since the day before yesterday.” He frowned and then winced, as the frown caused a small cut on his forehead to open up again. “Most of the blood isn’t mine. Had to kill about a million stupid demons tonight, and the last lot exploded when they died. Bloody inconsiderate!”

Having cleaned his face (ignoring his complaints), she looked him over in greater detail and realised that he was right, there was no major damage anywhere. He still looked exhausted and she tried to think what she should do with him. Well, he needed a good clean and his clothes were filthy. She made up her mind.Taking his hand, she led him to the bathroom and told him to wait, returning moments later with a laundry basket and some towels.

“Now, you put all your clothes in here, and yourself in the shower. I’ll take your coat - we can sort it out later. When you’re clean and dry you come in my bedroom - I got some blood today, I’ll have it ready. OK?” She smiled brightly, divested him of his coat and left the bathroom, leaving Spike with a look of stunned bewilderment on his face.

Moments later she heard the shower turn on and she grinned as she put the blood in the microwave.

She was waiting for him in the bedroom a little while later when he came in, a towel wrapped around his middle. She noticed that his hair was already mostly dry, but fuzzy and sticking out in all directions, and he looked unbearably cute. She patted the bed next to where she was sitting and he cautiously sat down.

“Sit down mister and get under the covers”, she said, and he did as he was told, obviously too tired to argue. “This is...” he started saying, but she handed him the mug and told him to drink. He practically inhaled it, and she could have sworn that he seemed less pale now. “More?” she asked and he nodded, as he sent her a tired and grateful smile.

When she came back from the kitchen however, he was already fast asleep. The effect of the tousled hair was to make him look very young and vulnerable somehow, and she suddenly found it hard to remember that he was also a fierce fighter - a champion no less. 

Maybe... maybe that was the difference between him and Angel. Angel always looked the hero. He was naturally tall and imposing; even asleep he looked the part - dark and mysterious. Whereas Spike was... what was he? He was like a chameleon, changing every moment, a new facade for every situation. But underneath it all... underneath it all there was just a young man who loved her more than was good for him. How old had he been when he was turned? What had he been like? What had made him stand out from the crowd to such an extent that Dru had chosen him and spent 120 years by his side? Well, tomorrow she’d start the great inquisition.

Silently she made sure that all curtains in the flat were covering the windows properly, before snuggling up to her vampire. And Dawn had called her silly when she insisted on a king size bed... Spike smiled in his sleep as she put his arm around her and laid her head on his chest. It was so soft and still, and she knew that six days would never be enough... six _years_ wouldn’t have been enough. Surely there was some way to make him stay? He’d said something about a prophecy that could apply to either him or Angel. If only she could find a way to determine who it was going to be... because it was much more likely to be Angel, wasn’t it? And then Spike could stay with her. Thus reassuring herself she drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

  
Buffy spent a great deal of time the next day just watching Spike sleep. She was certain that if she looked for long enough she’d actually see the bruises and cuts heal. Mid-morning she finally threw on some clothes and sorted things out a little. She took his clothes downstairs to the basement where the washing machines were and cleaned the coat superficially - mostly to get rid of the smell. 

At one point she noticed yet another message on the answering machine (she’d turned the sound down so it wouldn’t wake her ‘patient’). Thinking that it might be Dawn she pressed ‘play’, but sighing realised that it was only Giles again: “Buffy, I’m very sorry to impose, as I’m sure you know, but having spoken to Xander and Willow we agreed that the best option in the current circumstances would be to-”. As she deleted the message, she decided that come Sunday she was going to have a really long talk with Giles, mostly consisting of: “Stop giving me stupid reports about stuff that I can do nothing about! When there is an emergency here in Rome, I’ll be happy to deal with it.” It wasn’t like she was Willow, who could do clever magic over hundreds of miles or Xander or Faith who seemed to constantly travel around the globe to deal with emergencies. And right now... she had other things on her mind.

When Spike finally woke up - possibly due to the careful inspection of of his left eyebrow that she was conducting at the time - he slowly opened his eyes, took one look at her and pulled her in to his arms in a languid hug. With his face against her stomach he muttered: “You know, I love dreams like this. Shame they don’t last.”

She giggled and tried to lift his face to look at him. “Not a dream.” 

He frowned and blinked, then had a proper look at her. “Guess not... in my dreams you’re usually naked, not wearing a t-shirt that says...” he read the text and chuckled, 'My friend went to Copenhagen and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.” 

He shot her a bemused glance and she explained: “Andrew! Well, he got me a statue of the Little Mermaid too, but for some reason he felt that Dawn and I needed more t-shirts...” She shrugged, knowing that he’d understand that Andrew was hardly her favourite topic of conversation. 

After she had fetched him some blood, she sat down next to him on the bed and, smiling brightly, asked: “So, what were you like when you were human?” 

Nearly choking he took the mug from his lips. “ _What?_ ” 

“What were you like when you were human? I want to know.” 

She looked at him firmly, willing him to talk.

He looked at her darkly and shook his head. “Not sure you’ll want to know, love.” 

She frowned: “ _Of course_ I want to know! And if you want to be my boyfriend, you’d better be more co-operative.”

This, to her great satisfaction, had quite an impact. He stared at her open-mouthed: “ _Boyfriend_? You want - _what_?” She smiled and explained: “Well, since I dumped The Immortal for you, it would seem logical for me to date you - it’s what you said, right? That you wanted to date? So, therefore, you are now my new boyfriend! Until you have to go do that whole world saving thing again of course.” 

She smiled triumphantly at him and continued: “And good boyfriends answer their girlfriend’s questions, so - what were you like when you were William?”

If she had opened the window and threatened to throw him out of it, he could hardly have looked more shocked. Still he appeared unwilling to speak, so she pressed on again: “Oh, come on. It can’t be worse than Angel, surely.” 

She saw the second he gave in, just before he bowed his head in defeat. “Fine... as you wish.” He took a deep breath and met her eyes, mixed emotions playing out across his face. “I was a poet. And I lived at home with my mother whom I adored - basically I was the most pathetic bloke in all of London.” 

Whatever she had imagined, it had not been this. She stared at him, eyes widening. “A _poet_?” 

He sighed and looked down. “That’s where ‘William The Bloody’ came from - it was what they used to call me before I died, because my poetry was so bloody awful. They were right of course, but -” 

She stopped him before he could get any further, the embarrassment in his voice obvious. “Spike - I don’t think I ever told you, but... I love poetry.”

He lifted his face, wonder in his eyes: “You do?” 

She nodded. “It was one of my favourite courses at college. And the first book I bought after... after Sunnydale was a poetry book.” 

She jumped off the bed and dug out her book as she recalled her precious picture.

“Look, it’s even where I keep my secret picture of you!” She smiled, tears suddenly in her eyes, as she handed him her treasure.

He took the book slowly, and carefully flicked through the pages until he saw the photo. Incredulous he picked it up and stared at it. “Where did you find this? It’s ancient.”

“I stole it from a Council book.”

“You _stole_ it?” He sounded sceptical and shot her a glance, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Well, it’s not like they needed a picture of you and I _did_... I - I didn’t have anything of yours to remember you by...” her voice trailed off as a lump grew in her throat, and his eyes softened as understanding crept in. 

“Buffy... I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never called, sorry I was too scared and stupid to see you - I told you I was a jerk, remember? So...” a little pause and then her heart leapt as he said the magic words she’d been hoping for: “Is there any way I can make up for it?”

She smiled sweetly and sat down next to him again, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Well, for a start you could wear the clothes I bought you...”

“ _Clothes?_ ” 

************

It was a long, quiet afternoon. It felt almost dreamlike, as though they had all the time in the world just to talk and get to know each other again. Buffy told him about her daily life working with 'her' Slayers - nine of them - and he told stories of what Team Angel had been up to in the last year, sometimes stopping briefly when he recalled that they were now all dead. 

Later, when she’d talked him into putting on the clothes she had chosen (and really, she’d even bought a black t-shirt, surely blue jeans and brown jacket couldn’t be such a chore!), she asked if it was OK to go out for dinner that night. He really had very little say in the matter, but he agreed happily and she disappeared into the bathroom, warning him that she might take a long time!

While she was in the shower she thought she heard someone knocking on the door, but it was hard to tell - the water was loud. When she came out of the bathroom some time later, wrapped in her big fuzzy bathrobe, she thought about asking - until she saw him. He was sitting on the sofa, her poetry book open in his lap and the old photo in his hand. When he heard her he looked up automatically, only to swiftly bend his head again. But the look on his face didn’t escape her. Gone was the carefree Spike she’d chatted to previously... gone the youthful man she’d watched sleep. In his place was the vampire who’d draped himself on a cross - who’d begged for her to stake him in a dead woman’s basement. 

How could he look so old, when his face was so young? All that pain and guilt that he usually kept so well hidden had for some reason come to the surface. A poem from his youth maybe? Or had the photo brought back bad memories? Knowing that there was nothing she could do she quietly went into her bedroom, sensing that he wanted to be alone... and she thought that maybe she needed to be alone too.

She’d forgotten... forgotten how hard it could be. Her brain had obviously just edited out the really difficult parts when she’d thought back. She’d been so angry with herself for not being more open with him, for not telling him her feelings sooner, for that impulsive kiss with Angel... and now she was suddenly faced with that whole big mess of stuff that she’d swept under the carpet. The awkwardness, the way some things were just too real to deal with - all those big, strong feelings that made her want to hide or run away. She sighed. At least Gilda was bound to cheer them up...

 

*********

Buffy loved her little local restaurant. It wasn’t particularly well decorated and the food, although very good, was nothing like she’d experienced in the expensive places The Immortal had taken her to, but it had been her and Dawn’s refuge their first night in Rome. They had arrived at their new flat only to discover that it had no electricity and no way of getting anyone to sort out it until the next day. Ever-growing hunger and a need for light had sent them wandering down the street until they’d come upon the little restaurant. Tentatively looking through the door, they’d been spotted by Gilda and been whisked to a table and then subjected to a very thorough interrogation, with the help of one of her sons. Gilda was probably around 70, although she seemed more energetic than many people half her age. She was small, but with such a steely grip on her business and family that Buffy sometimes wondered if she’d been a potential Slayer once. Having found out that her two new little customers were practically orphans, she gathered them into a hug, telling them with many words, none of which they understood, that she’d make sure they were OK now. She’d been an incredible help in the early days, explaining things that seemed to make no sense and a god-send whenever Buffy had a problem with workers at the Council-building. 

She’d never brought The Immortal to see Gilda - she knew that he’d think the place too unrefined and although Gilda had a very old poster of him on the wall behind the till she disliked his current haircut, and Buffy really didn’t want to see what would happen if she started telling him off. Also the place was _hers_ and she didn’t want it associated with any particular boyfriend. Except Spike, of course, was different...

The second they walked through the door Gilda spotted her and instantly started talking. Halfway through her oration - remembering that Buffy’s Italian was nowhere near as good as Dawn’s - she called for Marco, her oldest son, and he slowly translated the torrent, obviously also cutting down the speech to something more succinct: “She says that you have been abandoning her and she nearly sent out a - how do you say it - search party? That you will break her heart if you leave it so long between visits in the future and that because you... hurt her so very much, you will need to apologise very much if you wish to have any food tonight. And who is the handsome young man - he looks like... I don’t know the English word...”

Smiling apologetically, Buffy replied: “This is Spike... the one who I told you was dead?” 

Spike had been observing the happenings with an amused smile, but as Gilda turned her attention to him, he pre-empted the likely flood of questions by smiling widely - with the charm turned to full-on flirt - then taking her hand and kissing it reverently. Looking at her, in a way that would have made Buffy very jealous indeed if it’d been directed at a younger woman, he asked, casting a glance at Marco: “Tell me, was she a beauty queen in... 1954?” The question relayed, Gilda was rendered speechless for the first time since Buffy had known her. Then her eyes lit up in utter adoration, and in a long, quickfire monologue to Marco she obviously extolled the virtues of Buffy’s date. She then disappeared into the kitchen as Marco led them to the best table and told them that his mother was going to make her most special pasta-dish and that it would be on the house. 

Buffy looked at Spike once Marco had left and shook her head. “Beauty queen? Where did you get that from?”

He chuckled. “I was here back in the Fifties and there was this absolute bombshell called Gilda - she had men falling at her feet left and right, but she was seriously religious and would not entertain the notion of going off with anyone. Even Dru got jealous and wouldn’t let me pursue her.” He grinned. “Only time she ever felt threatened before you came along.” 

Buffy stared at him and then started to smile. “This is just too weird.”

“Yeah, but she likes me now... that’s good right?”

She smiled gratefully. “It’s better than you can imagine.”

Wine appeared on the table a moment later, immediately followed by a starter and Buffy felt like all her daydreams had finally come true. For a while they chatted about Rome and Spike told her what it’d been like in the Fifties... before mentioning that of course if he went back a hundred years the changes became more profound. This led onto the topic of Angel and The Immortal, neither of which were very comfortable to discuss, but Buffy wanted to know about Angel’s girlfriend - did he really have one, or was that just something he’d said for fun?

Spike grinned. “Oh, no - he’s got a girlfriend alright! And very nice she is too.”

“But.... but what’s she like? I mean - how come he has a girlfriend?”

“Well, it’s all a part of the grand ‘getting-over-Buffy-plan’ that we had.”

“You’re joking!”

He smiled. “Well, a bit. Gotta hand it to the girl though, she worked hard to get him. Never have I seen anyone so clueless in my life! But - she’s a lovely girl. Perfect for him really. Name of Nina. Pretty, pleasant and - if I remember correctly - an art student. Oh - and she’s a werewolf, so not wanting a ‘normal’ life anyway...”

Buffy laughed, thinking he was joking: “Angel’s dating a _werewolf_?”

“Yeah - but most days of the month she’s tall and blonde. Kept seeing each other round full moon when she came to be locked up.”

Buffy just stared at him. Spike looked back:

“ _What_? Willow dated one for years! And it’s doing him a world of good. He stops brooding for hours at a time.”

Buffy tried not to laugh at this, but didn’t succeed very well. Spike smiled again.

“Oh, I had to bully him into calling her after the big battle. Took me best part of two weeks, but I had to do something. Of course it was all rather depressing, but there was no reason to let the poor girl think he was dead when he wasn’t. And the brooding was really getting to me. Why can’t he just get drunk?”

Buffy nodded, trying to come to grips with what she was hearing. “Nina... Angel and Nina... I guess it goes rather well...”

Spike smirked. “Feeling a bit jealous?”

“Wha- no, no of course not! No! I mean he can have a girlfriend if he wants, it’s just...”

Spike was now chuckling. “Expected him to sit around waitin’ until you were cookies?”

“No... well he said he would....” A thought suddenly struck her. “Does he... you know... sleep with her?”

Spike buried his head in his hands theatrically and looked up, a pained look on his face: “Why are we talking about this? Ask him yourself! And the jealousy thing is rather sweet - it’ll cheer him up.”

Buffy rolled her eyes: “Fine! But I’m not jealous. Just... kinda wigged.”

Spike shrugged. “Well, it’s not like she’s the first to try. From what the others said, there were a good few ladies who were interested. Although apart from Cordelia-”

“ _Cordelia_? Angel and Cordelia?? I know she worked for him, but -”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I don’t know what happened. She was in a coma when I was there. Woke up for a day and then she died - you heard about that, right?”

Buffy nodded quietly. “Yeah - people just keep dying.”

Spike picked up his wine glass and studied it absentmindedly before looking at her again, face serious. “I know. And could you... I mean... don’t mention Cordelia when Angel’s there. I don’t know what they had, but it’s obvious that he loved her. Did you know that she got visions from the Powers and became part-demon to keep them?”

She shook her head. “Cordy - part demon?”

“Wicked powers too, apparently. When she woke up Angel couldn’t stop smiling - it was scary.”

Buffy sighed. “This just keeps getting weirder...”

Shaking his head, Spike agreed: “Don’t I know it.”

He sat still for a moment, then did one of those flip-moodswings and smiled. “But let’s not talk about dead people... I - I got you something.”

Her eyes widened. “Got me something?”

He looked secretive, pleased and a bit scared. “A... A present.” He swallowed and reached into the jacket pocket with his left hand, bringing out a flat black jewellery box. With a nervous smile he handed it across the table.


	11. Chapter 11

Buffy stared at the black jewellery box, suddenly recalling another vampire, another present. Many, many years ago... and how typical had it been of Angel to give her something that could be used as a weapon against him? Spike was unlikely to have bought her a cross - wasn’t he?

Tentatively taking the box from his hand, she shot him a smile. He had never given her presents... certainly not jewellery. Except of course from that time with Willow’s spell. For the tiniest moment she had a flash of fear - what was his taste like? Apart from skull-rings and the necklace he’d worn back when they’d been sleeping together, she didn’t have a clue. What would she say if she didn’t like it? Then she pulled herself together, opened the box... and gasped.

It was a gold necklace with a round, flat pendant the size of a walnut. She supposed that it must be an opal, only she’d never seen an opal like it - in her mind they were sort of sparkly whitish and dull. This opal was like fire - red and orange twining together, thousands of tiny facets catching the light as she stared at it mesmerised. It looked as though it was alive - moving, changing, burning up from inside. She had no idea how long she looked at it, it might have been days for all she knew. Slowly she tore her eyes from it and met Spike’s gaze. 

“Do you like it?” he asked, and she could only nod as her eyes were drawn back to her new treasure. She had never owned anything like it. The Immortal had bought her jewellery from time to time - always something stunning and faultless, like diamond earrings - but this was different. After another eternity of losing herself in the glittery, shimmery depths of the stone, she lifted her head again. “It’s like it’s on fire...” she said, knowing that it sounded stupid and obvious, but she didn’t have the vocabulary for describing it. He smiled then, and she knew that somehow she’d said exactly the right thing. “That’s why I bought it,” he replied, “It reminded me of you.”

“Of _me_?” 

He had her attention now and started explaining properly: “You’re like fire - you were always like fire to me. Dangerous. Alive. I knew you’d burn me, but I couldn’t help myself. I saw this last night and...” 

He stopped and then started again, obviously trying to sort out his thoughts. “People don’t like opals much - they prefer ‘proper’ gemstones like diamonds. They’re looking for perfection, but what they don’t realise is that perfection is bloody boring. Perfection never changes. But opals...” He stopped, eyes shining like a cool blue counterpart to the gemstone. “Opals are alive - the imperfections make them move and shine like nothing else. _That’s_ why it reminds me of you. If you were perfect I’d never have fallen in love with you - it would be like loving a statue. And I’ve been there, it’s no fun. William the Bloody Git was always trying to find something more refined, worshipping ideals with no roots in reality and thinking that unless a woman was as pure and good as an angel, she couldn’t be worthy of love.” He shook his head in contempt for his former self. “No, it’s all those different parts of you, all the good and the bad and the sometimes stupid that makes you so fascinating... that make you sparkle and burn. That make you _Buffy_.”

She felt her eyes sting from what must be tears - how did he do that? Take her flaws and turn them on their head? But if she was fire, then so was he! There had always been fire with Spike. She had known that if she gave in, she’d be on fire forever and she’d been right. When she had finally told him that she loved him there had been actual fire, only it had been nothing like the burning she had felt inside - that she had seen in his eyes. And it had always been there - that strength of feeling. Whether hate or love, she’d never been indifferent to him. Looking at him now, she suddenly realised that _of course_ he was a poet. That constant, vulnerable heart beneath the Big Bad exterior... she sighed deeply and happily, and he smiled: “Can I...” 

He stopped and the strangest look came over his face before he smiled again. “Can I put it on you?”

“Of course!” she replied, carefully taking the necklace out of the box. He must have used vampire speed, because the next second he was behind her, carefully fastening the clasp as she pulled her hair out of the way. As she lifted her head again, she heard a loud “Mamma Mia!” and saw Gilda by the kitchen door, a hand against her chest. As she came over to the table she continued with the longest continual stream of exclamations that Buffy had ever heard, and she was impressed by the sheer depth and breadth of the Italian language. Shaking her head as she took the plates away, Gilda then showed more tact that Buffy had thought possible, only muttering that Buffy’s new man had to be very wealthy as well as good-looking. 

This was an aspect that hadn’t occurred to Buffy so far, but the necklace must have been very expensive... and Spike had never had any money. He said that he’d bought it - hadn’t he? But how?

“Sorry - I know this probably sounds really lame - but how did you afford this?”

He chuckled. “Oh, I’ve got money these days... well so far anyway. Bound to be cut off at some point, but until then - I can get pretty much anything.”

She shook her head in wonder. “How?”

He emptied his glass and refilled it, then shot her a glance. “I told you about Angel trying to get rid of me by making me a ‘Special Agent’, didn’t I?”

“Um, I think so...”

“Well, I didn’t take him up on the offer, but since I _did_ start working with him, he got me a special agent card, since I didn’t want to be on the Wolfram  & Hart payroll. It’s like a credit card that never runs out of credit - bloody brilliant! And I put a fake name on it, so it’s possible that they’ve not worked out that I’m the one using it... would explain why it still works anyway.”

She chuckled. “A fake name? Like Joe Doe or Mr. Smith?”

He looked at her, laughter in his eyes. “Well, you could say that... all I was concerned about was not signing anything. So I chose... no, let me show you!”

He pulled out his wallet and took out a plastic card with a silvery, shimmery shine. He handed it over without a word, and when she looked at it she suddenly understood the mirth on his face.

“ _Randy Giles_? You chose _Randy Giles_ as your alias?” She laughed out loud and stared at him, recalling a certain spell with a fondness she’d once thought impossible.

“Well, I didn’t want something obviously made-up, and this one’s easy to remember. Also it drove Angel completely mad trying to work out why the hell I chose that name.” He chuckled and she felt her breath catch at the sparkle in his eyes. 

“Never really realised how handy it was until today though. Mostly just been using it for blood, booze or fags. But when I called up that jewellers they practically bent over backwards to accommodate me. Would have delivered the necklace on a velvet cushion I’m sure, if I’d wanted. But what the hell would I have done with a cushion?”

She laughed and then suddenly felt some pieces fit together. “I _thought_ I heard someone knocking on the door when I was in the shower.”

“Yeah, I told them to be quiet, but well, there is a limit to how quiet an Italian delivery boy can be.”

He emptied his glass and seeing that the bottle was empty he looked at her questioningly: “So, do we get more wine or what?”

She smiled. “Oh, no. Now - we go dancing!”

**********

It was around eleven when they finally walked home. As they strolled down the street, arms around each other, Buffy felt as though she was floating. Why had she never gone dancing with Spike before? Well, for a million different reasons, but all she could think of now was how much time she had wasted.

She’d done a lot of dancing since she moved to Rome, especially after she started seeing The Immortal, who of course had been an exquisite dancer. But Spike... she remembered that he’d once told her that dancing was all they’d ever done, but tonight she had finally really understood what he’d meant. He wasn’t technically as good a dancer as The Immortal of course... but he didn’t need to be. She found that she was so aware of him that she could second-guess his every move. All those years fighting - as adversaries or partners - had created an exceptional rapport. That he was a vampire probably helped - her Slayer-senses could always pinpoint him, but when dancing this became something more. She knew that she could have let herself fall at any moment and he would have caught her... she knew where his hands, his arms, his feet were at any given time, even if she closed her eyes. People had stopped and just watched them; but she hadn’t noticed until they finished, when suddenly there had been applause. Oh, she could have danced with him all night, except she had other activities planned... 

As they stopped, getting ready to cross a road, she noticed an alley across the street. It was dark, the streetlights barely illuminating the first few feet - then it disappeared in blackness. It was as though it was calling to her. When she closed her eyes she was assulted by vivid images, almost too real to handle... _His hard, lean body pinning her against the wall; deep, hungry kisses burning her as his hands wandered over her body, her dress pulled up around her hips, her legs wrapped tightly around his middle as the gritty wall bit into her back..._ she flung her eyes open, suddenly out of breath, and saw that he was watching her. Noticing the direction of her gaze he shot her a look, eyebrow quirked, but she shook her head mutely and made sure that they crossed the road at an angle, avoiding the temptation. It wasn’t that it was bad - just that... tonight she wanted something different. Tonight she wanted to make love. She wanted him in her bed, she wanted him to know that she meant it - she wanted him to be a part of her life, if only for a little while. An actual, real part, not hidden in any way. Like that last night in her basement, but better - no death and destruction hanging over them like a black shadow, ready to snatch away their happiness in an instant.

 

Outside her flat door, as she was looking for the keys in her purse, Spike spoke: “So what now?”

She stopped and looked at him, all of him, just standing there - as usual taking her lead. He always looked particularly beautiful in half-light, the cheekbones accentuated, the eyes somehow more blue. His body, outlined against the darkness of the hallway, so lithe and graceful - more than she could ever have wished for. She realised that something had happened to her breathing, because when she tried to answer, she could barely form the words. “I just... I just want _you_.” 

There was a flash of _something_ on his face... love and lust and need and tenderness all fused together, and suddenly she found herself pushed up against the door, his hands gently cupping her face. But unlike her swift fantasy moment, his kiss was delicate and soft, his touch light. It made her forget everything and she found herself responding, her arms reaching up behind his head, her fingers caressing his neck. She hadn’t kissed him since Sunday night, had not trusted herself - or him - had wanted to save it up, to savour it more thoroughly. And now she found that it did the strangest things to her. All strength seemed to have left her legs and her heart was hammering so loudly that it must be as deafening to him as it was to her. She could feel him - his whole body touching her, every detail known and suddenly _needed_ with great urgency. She knew that he felt the same as he started pressing against her harder, his caresses intensifying. This caused the door - that should have been locked - to suddenly spring open, and only Spike’s vampire reflexes stopped them from falling over as her support fell away; their kiss unbroken as they half stumbled through the door. 

It took a few moments before they registered that something was wrong. It was possibly the bright lights that shouldn’t have been on, that broke the spell. Slowly they pulled apart and turned their heads in unison to see the most unlikely sight they could have imagined: Sitting on Buffy’s sofa were Giles, Willow and Xander - their faces a study in bafflement and shock.


	12. Chapter 12

No one moved. It seemed as though time had suddenly stopped, if not for the TV that could vaguely be heard from the flat next door. Buffy still had her arms around Spike’s neck and although she knew that she ought to let go of him, she didn’t want to. Mostly she just wanted to yell at her friends to get the hell out of her apartment so she could have sex with Spike, but well - that wasn’t really an option, was it? Also they looked even more shocked than she felt. Willow's eyes had grown to a really enormous size and Xander was as pale as a sheet, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. Funny - she didn’t know that people actually did that. The scene was shattered when Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them more thoroughly than Buffy had ever seen. He alone seemed calm.

Xander finally regained his speech and, one shaky finger pointing towards them, stuttered in disbelief: “Sp... Spike! It’s _Spike_!”

Giles, carefully putting away his cloth, replied drily: “It would appear so.”

“But - but...” Xander looked wildly from the Watcher to the vampire. “He’s _dead_!” 

Spike, sending the young man a tired, withering look, answered: “I know that. The lack of heartbeat was a dead give-away for a start.”

This didn’t soothe Xander much and he looked accusingly at Giles again, voice slightly high-pitched and accusing: “Why are you so calm? He _died_! Burnt to ash and buried at the bottom of a crater. _He shouldn’t be here!_ ”

Sighing, Giles started to look through a folder from the pile of papers on the table. “The news of Spike’s... return... was one of the points on tonight's agenda. Obviously we can now skip that part.”

Finding the paper he was looking for he handed it to Willow who seemed to be the more rational one. She took it out of his hand eagerly and, scanning the bullet points, found the relevant one and began to read aloud: 

“As gently and carefully as possible impart the news of Spike’s extraordinary return to ‘unlife’. Explain the exceptional and incredible circumstances and stress the importance of his and Angel’s current heroic exploits.”

Spike groaned loudly at this and stared at Giles with ill-concealed disgust: “You let _Andrew_ write your notes?”

Looking slightly bashful, Giles began explaining that no one else had been available, when Xander cut in: “ _Angel_? What’s Angel got to do with anything?”

Spike glared at him, as though he was a small, hyperactive child: “Long story. Not important right now. I’m sure Giles will fill you in.” 

Turning his gaze back to the Watcher, he asked: “I thought you were going to wait until the big Slayer gathering before you told them.”

Giles sighed. “Well, since I was suddenly coming here, I thought I might as well include it.”

Spike nodded, and reluctantly pulled away from Buffy. She could see the wariness on his face and realised that he was still unsure of her - of them. Inwardly grumbling she took a firm hold of his hand, and turned to Giles: “Could you get some chairs from the kitchen for us? Since you’re here anyway making use of my place. There’d better be a very good explanation.”

Giles looked at her, confusion on his face: “But I told you the outlines already. I even left messages on your mobile phone to make sure you’d hear them.”

She stared at him. “Oh... I never listened to your messages. Actually I’ve not listened to them for months now.”

“ _What?_ ” 

Damn - he was making her feel as though she was a little 16-year old newly-called Slayer with no idea of life’s more important issues. Desperately trying to remember the rant she’d been building up over the last few days, she attempted to defend herself: “Well I used to... but it’s always something like ‘Big crisis in Kuala Lumpur’ or ‘We think the penguins on the South Pole might be possessed.’ What am I supposed to do about any of it? You always work something out anyway - with or without my input.”

Giles had apparently never thought about this, but only lost his focus for a brief moment. “Well, right now there is a war breaking out in Rome, so I’m afraid your input is very much needed.”

She blinked, feeling very blonde for a moment: “A - a _war_?”

“Let me get those chairs,” Giles replied and went into the kitchen. Spike used the opportunity to lean towards her and quietly whisper in her ear: “Bet you wish we’d gone for the alley now.” As a matter of fact this was very close to what she had been thinking. Eyes widening and cheeks suddenly scarlet she turned to him and hissed to shut up and behave. He sent her a innocent smile, but didn’t say anything else. 

Moments later they were seated, and in spite of his outrageous comment Buffy was still clutching Spike’s hand like a lifeline. She noticed the looks from her friends - the many questions in Willow’s eyes and the slight hostility on Xander’s face, but it would all have to wait.

“Well, since you haven’t heard any of my messages, I suppose I have to start all over.” 

Another _look_ from Giles that she found hard to ignore, then he began: “Over the weekend the two oldest demon clans in Rome had some sort of meeting. We don’t know the particulars, but unfortunately they appear to have disagreed on something and are now at loggerheads. The situation is rapidly escalating and I’m sure that you have at least heard of the great increase in demon activity. Battle lines are being drawn and a great many demons have arrived in the last few days, spoiling for a fight.” 

Spike nodded. “Killed a large portion of them last night. What are you doing about it then?”

Giles glared at him and continued. “In the past there was not much the Council could do except watch and wait. But with all the new Slayers at our disposal we might be able to stop a bloodbath if things get critical. Even the threat of an intervention might work as a deterrent.”

Buffy was sceptical. “I’m not having my girls fighting in a stupid demon-war. If there’s infighting let them get on with it. Less for us to kill.”

Giles sighed. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. These are highly sophisticated demons and there is bound to be a heavy loss of human life if they decide to declare open war.”

With an authoritative air Spike held out his hand. “Well, lets have a look at the details then.”

Giles pinched the brow of his nose and his face took on a pained expression. “Spike... I’m not sure that-”

“Look - do you want my opinion or not?” Spike interrupted, hand still held out, an impatient edge to his voice.

There was a moment’s silent struggle as their eyes met, then Giles looked down. “Of course Spike, just, um... .”

And as Buffy stared in disbelief, her former Watcher handed over the dossier to her lover, almost apologetically. With only the briefest of triumphant looks in her direction Spike began perusing the document, and Buffy found herself staring at her equally astonished friends. Spike had mentioned that he’d been staying with Giles in London for a while and that he and Angel had used the Council’s resources whilst there, but he’d never said anything about Giles acting so... deferential. 

“Oh, bloody brilliant - Latin. Just what I need,” Spike grumbled, and Giles felt compelled to explain: “Well, I’m afraid that there wasn’t time to do any translating - I think I brought a dictionary though...”

“Nah - I’ll get by. I’m just trying to get the gist anyway.”

Xander laughed, slightly nervously. “Spike knows Latin?”

“Of course I know Latin you moron. What - you thought I was an uncultured oaf like you? Some of us went to university you know.”

“ _You_ went to university?” There was disbelief in Xander’s voice and Willow looked surprised. She opened her mouth to speak, but Spike cut in before she could say anything: “Lots of things you don’t know about me, boy.” 

He then turned his attention back to the papers. Buffy didn’t really know what to make of it - could he help or was he just showing off? Over the years she had slowly come to understand that Spike knew a lot more than he let on, and when he bothered to concentrate he could be very smart. And of course he was a demon and was probably much more familiar with a situation like this...

Suddenly Spike swore loudly and then flipped through the pages, looking for something. Moments later he had obviously found it and looked up - staring down Giles with something that came worryingly close to contempt: “Why didn’t you say that both clans were Wolfram & Hart clients?”

Taken by surprise Giles took the dossier and checked the references that Spike pointed out. “I must have missed that - although I hardly see what difference it makes.”

Suddenly cheerful, Spike laughed: “Makes all the difference in the world mate! I know sod-all about all that legal stuff, but even _I_ know that law firms don’t want their clients to fight each other. I’ll bet my unlife that dear Ilona - that’s the CEO - is in talks with the clans as we speak, trying to reconcile them.”

Everyone was staring at him like they’d never seen him before. Spike sent Giles a look: “I haunted a law firm for half a year, then hung around for another half... picked up a lot of information. Some of it I wish I hadn’t, but lets just say that I know how they work. Trust me - they’re sorting this out.”

Willow, who’d been mostly silent, now spoke up: “That’s very... impressive, but how do we find out how they’re doing? I know this really nifty spying spell...”

Spike cut her off: “Won’t work - they’re anything and everything proof - stocked to the ceiling with shamans and whatnot. But you’re right - it’d be nice to know what’s happening. Could always just call and ask I suppose...”

“Call and ask?” Xander sounded dubious and Buffy had to agree: “I thought you were fighting them - why would they tell you anything?”

Grinning wickedly, Spike replied. “Oh, but they’re so _very_ civilised - and I’m not going to call them myself.” 

He pulled out his cellphone from his jacket pocket and pressed a button. As he waited for a reply, he huffed: “Probably all just because of a fork y’know... Angel? I need a favour.”

He listened for a moment then smiled. “Now, now - that’s not appropriate language. I’m calling because we’re stuck in a Scooby meeting and need some information. Apparently there was a reason for last night’s testosterone-filled hordes.”

He quickly outlined the situation, then continued: “So I need you to call the lovely Ilona and ask her what’s happening.”

Another pause as Angel replied, then Spike was speaking again: “No, I’m not bloody calling her. For a start I’m sat in Buffy’s flat and I really don’t want her coming round here later. Also _you_ were the mighty CEO - the big boss man with the desk and the flunkies and I was just a sidekick. You call and they’ll put you straight through. _I_ call and I’ll end up spending 20 minutes with the receptionist trying to - oh, bollocks!”

To her great astonishment Buffy could hear Angel laughing over the phone as Spike buried his head in his free hand. What on earth had he been referring to? And why did it make Angel laugh?

Sighing deeply, Spike tried to cut through the mirth: “OK, so I walked straight into that one. Just shut up already.” 

A brief silence, then his face abruptly changed: “ _Hey_ \- you ever call me that again and I tell Buffy about the puppet-thing, understood?”

This apparently did the trick, because moments later Angel had obviously agreed to help. Suddenly Spike laughed: “That’s what I said too! Bloody forks - they should be banned. Anyway - good luck with the praying mantis.” And he turned off his phone and smiled at the room in general. “We should hear back shortly.”

Before Buffy could say anything, Giles asked: “Why did you keep referring to forks? Is this some particular demon code that we’re not familiar with?”

Spike chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, no - that all goes back to this one time last year when Angel was trying to reconcile these two demon clans that had been at war for four generations. Apparently all because someone used the wrong fork at an official occasion. The older clans are very strict on protocol etc. - like the mafia, but more violent.”

“I see.” Giles said. “Out of curiosity, how did that turn out?”

Spike grinned. “Oh, it went very well, once Harmony had dusted a co-worker in the middle of their talks - can’t go wrong with a sacrifice.”

“Harmony?” Xander looked flabbergasted again, and Buffy could see that the others shared the sentiment - as did she.

“Oh, she was Angel’s PA - really tried her hardest to do well the silly bint. Even got hold of a live camel for the big meeting. God I wish I could have seen Angel’s face.” 

He shook his head and a slightly awkward silence fell until Willow finally broke it: “That’s a beautiful necklace Buffy - is it new?”

Buffy could feel her face split in a goofy grin. “Yes; Spike gave it to me tonight. Isn’t it gorgeous?” Automatically she turned to him and smiled. He returned the smile tenfold and for a moment they were completely lost to the world as their eyes met, the evening’s memories flooding back.

“So, um, you were on a... _date_?” Xander said, obviously getting uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” she replied as she forced herself to stop gazing into Spike’s eyes - she was sure that they were a different shade of blue every time she looked.

“And you were planning on telling us about this - when?” Xander continued.

“Telling you?” Buffy asked, suddenly aware that her friends were looking at her in that ‘ _you’ve been keeping secrets from us - again_ ’ way. How the hell did they do that? _Why_ did they do that? Why did she always have to be accountable to them for what she did? The Immortal had thankfully charmed his way through their defences, but she had a feeling that unless she found another Riley, Xander at least would always be ‘disappointed’. She frowned, suddenly annoyed at their assumed position of superiority.

“Well, I was just going to wear a t-shirt saying ‘Spike’s Girl’ when we all met up on Sunday and let you figure it out for yourselves,” she said, feeling tired and fed up and wanting them all far away. She more felt than heard the gasp from Spike’s direction and when she turned saw that he had the strangest look on his face. 

“I must say that I am rather surprised.” Giles said, breaking the moment before she could find out what the matter was. “From what you said in the summer, Spike, I thought you were trying to avoid Buffy.” 

“Didn’t plan on seeing her - was pure coincidence,” Spike replied, eyes narrowing. Just then his phone rang and he answered it, looking relieved. 

“So - what’s the situation?” he asked, and then listened for a while as Angel explained. After a few questions - some about their own mission - he turned off the phone. 

“Well, that’s that sorted,” he said, smiling triumphantly. “Ilona is most determined to get them reconciled, and with her powers of persuasion I’m sure they’ll all be best friends in no time. There’ll probably be a good deal of ‘unrest’ for the foreseeable future, but with 10 Slayers in town that shouldn’t be a problem.” He stopped, then continued as though they had just shared a cup of tea, and not been discussing demon wars: “So, will you be heading back to London?” 

“Um, I think it would probably be wise to stay for a day or two, just to monitor the situation,” Giles said, watching as Spike got up and fetched his and the Scoobies’ coats.

“Well, that sounds very sensible - you could even get some sightseeing done. Might show you round the catacombs one day if I’m feeling energetic. Plenty of good stories to tell you. But it’s getting late. You’ve got somewhere to stay I presume?”

Giles nodded absentmindedly: “The guest accommodation at the Council thankfully escaped water damage, so we’re staying there.”

“Brilliant!” Spike beamed and handed out jackets and coats. “You must be very tired, having travelled so far. I’m sure you all need your beauty sleep.”

“Hey!” Xander said, frowning. “You can’t just throw us out. And I’m not just taking some evil CEO’s word that they’re sorting out this war. This could be dangerous. And not the fun kind you see in blockbusters.”

“I’m afraid Xander has a point.” Giles said. “What do you think Buffy?”

“I... I...” she looked from her friends to Spike and back again, wondering why her life couldn’t have been uncomplicated for just a few days at least. “I think I’m really tired. Can we meet up again tomorrow maybe? We could all have lunch together and see if the situation has calmed down yet, OK?”

Giles nodded slowly and although Xander looked unhappy, he didn’t protest again. Willow put on her jacket and gave Buffy a hug, then said quietly: “I know it’s none of my business, but... I just want to make sure that you know what you’re doing. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Buffy smiled gratefully. “Thanks Will. But I’m fine. Actually I’m happier than I’ve been for a very long time I think.”

Nodding in understanding, Willow then went over to Spike: “Well, I’m glad you’re not dust anymore. And you’ll have to explain everything about whatever spell brought you back, understood."

Slightly taken aback, Spike grinned. “Don’t know a lot, but you can cross-examine me any day.”

“Good.” Turning to Giles and Xander she asked: “Ready?”

Obviously slightly confused, they indicated that they were, Giles having collected all the various papers in a large leather briefcase. And after a few goodbyes, they were all out the door. Turning around to face Buffy, Spike smiled happily. “My mother was right - good manners will get you anywhere.”

She laughed at the complete absurdity of the situation: “I can’t believe that just happened.”

In an instant he was next to her, kneeling at her side. “Anything for my girl,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. And as he said it, she suddenly remembered why those words were so special. Memories that had proven hard to banish, of pain and confusion and anger mixed up together... and Spike the only one who understood... _“Come on, that's it, put it on me. Put it all on me. That's my girl.” - “I am **not** your girl! I could **never** be your girl!!” ..._

She swallowed and felt her vision go blurry from tears. He reached out and gently stroked her face. “Shh, Buffy, that’s all long gone - we can’t change it, and now... it doesn’t matter anymore...” 

She closed her eyes, fighting back a sob and moments later she felt his lips cover her own, their gentle softness making her forget everything that was on her mind - all there was room for was the feel of his hands, as they stroked her hair; his body, now flush against her and the deep well of happiness that suddenly sprung up inside her. He was really there and he was really hers. And right now, that was all that mattered. She felt him pick her up and carry her into the bedroom and she had to open her eyes to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. But it was real - so very real - and she held onto it with everything she had. 

_(It seemed oddly fitting that the only Latin she knew was 'Carpe Diem'.)_


	13. Chapter 13

After a day's unsettled sleep, setting off for Napoli had been a relief. Once there finding Lord Omishkar’s palace was no problem. Angel was let in to the demon Lord’s dull, but obviously wealthy, waiting room straight away, but then time seemed to stop. He was glad that he’d not brought Illyria - she would have kicked the doors down in a fit of impatience a long time ago. She wasn’t stupid, it was just that tact was not in her vocabulary. She was probably decimating Napoli’s demon population, having a great time.

He’d arrived at 10 pm as arranged, but there had been some sort of hold up, and now it was well past 11. Far too much time to think and reflect. Much as he tried, his thoughts kept running straight back to the one thing he wanted to avoid dwelling on: Buffy and Spike. 

Angel had done the noble thing - the right thing - and also the only thing where he’d still have some dignity left. He had no claim on her anymore. Had no right to ask questions or enquire what was going on. (Besides which, he had a girlfriend.) But it still hurt deeply and he was still wondering why. Why Spike? Why did she love him? _Did_ she love him? And if she did why had Spike never mentioned it...

He found himself going over all their interaction in the past year. They had not spoken of Buffy often after Spike had turned up at W&H - early on there had mostly been angry words, intended to wound and cut, but Spike had never claimed that she loved him - only that she slept with him a great deal. And later... later it had been almost too painful. There had been the time aboard the boat when they were crossing the Atlantic, and Illyria had become particularly impossible. Fed up, and as full of pent-up frustration as she, Spike had remarked that he’d seen a God killed before now, and if she didn’t shut up, he would be happy to see if there was a way of repeating that success with her. She had been intrigued, rather than threatened, and from that remark had come the story of Glory and Buffy’s death. Spike could be a good storyteller and Angel found himself drawn into the tale as it unfolded, but once the end came nearer Spike found it hard to continue. The pauses grew longer, the telling more fragmented. Having seen Buffy dead at his feet himself, Angel understood the pain far too well.

But did she actually love the bleached wonder? He searched back through his memories, trying to find any sort of indication... Spike had set off to see her, but had then changed his mind. Angel had been sure that this was because she didn’t return his feelings. But if he went further back still... _Oh!_ Spike, in his office, having just emerged from the amulet: “You don’t know what we had!” And Buffy’s quiet: “He’s in my heart,” a few weeks before. But still that might not be love - it might be affection or friendship or... or something. And he didn’t know. Didn’t have the means to find out. If only he could be a fly on the wall somewhere...

He sighed. Why couldn’t he just accept her word? Believe what he’d seen? It would be easy enough, except... except she had claimed to love the little soldier boy. What was his name? Oh, yes, Riley. Thrown her feelings for her new boyfriend at Angel like a well-aimed stake. Only the boy had vanished and she had never mentioned him the few times they’d met since. And there had been that rather enjoyable night in London, when he and Spike had bonded in mutual Riley-loathing - Spike confirming that Buffy had indeed never loved the gun-waving idiot.

But that was all he’d said about Buffy... Angel frowned as he again went over his and Spike’s conversations. Spike who could never shut up about anything, rarely mentioned Buffy. And _never_ talked about the relationship he’d had with her. The more Angel considered this, the stranger it became. And it was not a lack of openness on his own part - he’d pretty much laid himself bare when he told Spike about the mind wipe and everything it entailed. He was still unsure why he’d related the whole sorry business to Spike, but a small voice - that sounded strangely like Cordelia’s - had insisted that Spike would understand. And he had. Angel had seen it when he told of his attempt to save Darla’s life - had known that Spike would probably have done the same for Dru if he had the chance. His friends had never understood the bond between them, but Spike more than understood - he had seen it, had been there, had lived it himself; back before the soul. And much as the younger vampire would jab at his elder, he never used Darla as ammunition anymore...

His train of thought was lost when his cellphone rang. And instead of telling Spike to get lost, Angel found himself agreeing to help. Calling Ilona would not have been at the top of his list of favourite things, but at least it was a distraction. As he spoke to her, he marvelled at how she could simultaneously try to seduce him and find out what he was doing, even as she was attempting to lure him back to W&H. Quite an astonishing woman... shame that she was evil.

As he said good-bye to Spike again, he felt secretly pleased that he and Buffy had somehow ended up in a Scooby meeting. For Buffy’s sake he wished that she wouldn’t have to deal with the hostility that her friends were no doubt displaying, but he couldn’t help enjoying the impatient, annoyed note in Spike’s voice. It was strangely reassuring that life didn’t work out for other people either... 

Like a fledgling drawn to blood however, his brain swiftly jumped right back to the Buffy-Spike conundrum. Did she really love him? Maybe... and he knew he shouldn’t be thinking it, but it _was_ a possibility - maybe Spike was only a substitute. Knowing that she couldn’t have Angel, Buffy might have transferred her feelings to the devoted vampire she _could_ have. He knew he had been very worried that he would be doing the same with Nina - but Buffy was so very young, maybe she didn’t realise what she was doing? 

A very servile guard interrupted his thoughts at this point and told him that His Lordship could see him now. Relieved Angel followed him, noting the medieval style of the demon’s armour. In fact the whole palace seemed stuck in the Middle Ages, which probably meant that Omishkar was ancient... whether this was good or bad remained to be seen.

A few opulent corridors later, Angel was finally shown into what was obviously an official reception chamber. It looked like a badly put-together movie-set, but he had no doubt that all the artifacts were genuine. The lights were low, and the demon lord was sitting on a large ornate throne at the end of the room. His bulky, shapeless form was concealed beneath a robe covered in intricate embroidered designs. Angel was sure that each strange little squiggle was a magic charm or spell, the whole thing designed to protect its wearer. 

The demon was an odd greenish murky colour, and looked like he’d faded in the wash... probably a sign of age, as demons were often brightly coloured when young. The face was almost human-like, but with many creases and folds - most of them decorated with what might be tattoos or possibly just natural markings. It was hard to tell in the half-light. The robe was dark purple, almost indigo, and bestowed upon its possessor an aura of authority. 

When Omishkar saw him, he smiled condescendingly: “Well, well young man - what can I do for you?”

 _Oh, great!_ Angel thought - _one of those._ And again he was thankful he hadn’t brought Illyria. Although he vehemently disliked the playing up to another’s ego, he’d learnt to do it well enough as CEO. Illyria however was as unbending as an iron rod and would have insulted the demon lord within minutes.

Before he had a chance to answer, however, Omishkar laughed a rather unpleasant laugh and said: “You do not need to tell me - I know what you want.”

He pursed his baby fat lips in a shrewd smile, and Angel smiled back stiffly: “So you will help me?”

“ _Help_ you? I am not certain that what I can tell you will _help_ you. I can give you certain information that you will probably find... ah... _useful_.” He waved his hand noncommittally. “But whether it is _helpful_ only time will tell. It might lead you to a very painful death.” And he chuckled.

“I doubt that very much,” Angel answered, knowing that he ought to ask for the information, but unable to let the insult pass by. “I took down The Circle of the Black Thorn and I’m still standing.”

“Oh, yes - very true, very true.” Omishkar replied, still smiling. “A most daring endeavour! Wolfram & Hart certainly got more than they bargained for with you. Ah, youthful folly.” And he shook his head, causing all the flabby bits on his face and neck to wobble for almost a whole minute. “Very daring indeed. Oh, they were not pleased - not pleased at all. It will be... ah... amusing to see what they have in store for you.”

“I think I’ve proven I can take it," Angel retorted, hands itching to hit something, but keeping his smile firmly in place. 

His comment only made Omishkar laugh again, a big, deep noise that seemed to come straight from his not inconsiderable belly. After a while he calmed down and looked a Angel with something bordering affection: “Oh, my young vampire, I have not laughed like this for a very long time. You are a most... ah... humorous young fellow. You think you have escaped, do you not? You think that you wounded them, and they are afraid of what you can do.” Another little chuckle. “Oh, but how it will amuse me to follow your tale. They have plans for you my boy - big plans - they are but waiting for the opportune moment.”

Suddenly interested, Angel was unable to stop himself from enquiring further: “How do you know this? I thought you were an enemy of Wolfram & Hart - otherwise why help me?”

Omishkar shrugged, causing his robe ripple and making the enchantments glimmer in the dull light. “Enemy? I am not their enemy... that is such a... _vulgar_ term. I merely conduct my own affairs. They do not bother me, I do not bother them. I was once invited to have a place in the Circle of the Black Thorn, many centuries ago, but... ah... I do not enjoy working for anyone but myself. I am Lord Omishkar, I live in the Shadows and my Power is Great.”

 _Bloody hell_ , Angel thought, not even realising that he’d adopted one of Spike’s turns of phrase, _he certainly thinks the world of himself. I really hope his information is worth all the yammering._

As though reading his thoughts (and Angel sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case) Omishkar suddenly returned to the matter at hand.

“I suppose you must be growing impatient... and much as I am enjoying this... ah... chat, I have affairs to attend to. I believe that you wish to know more about the Senior Partners, am I correct?”

“That would be correct, yes,” Angel said.

“I do not know much myself, but I have an... ah... acquaintance who can help you. He was once... _close_ to the Senior Partners and - I believe - one of the founders of The Circle of the Black Thorn. But for reasons now lost in the mist of time, he... ah... decided to leave that partnership and has kept to himself ever since. No one knows what his purpose is, but he is a most powerful sorcerer... once a living legend. But even legends pass out of knowledge with time, and now he is near forgotten. I met him once - a few hundred years ago - and he is very... ah... happy to have been forgotten.”

“That is all extremely fascinating - but if he’s forgotten, how can I find him?” Angel asked, beginning to worry that it had all been for nothing.

“Patience, patience, young man, all will be revealed.” Omishkar sighed theatrically, then continued. “He likes this dimension - the humans are so busy with their own affairs that no one pays much attention to anything else. He set up home in the desert by the Dead Sea about half a millennia ago. I have never been there, but I am told that it is easy to find, despite his many cloaking spells. The magic is potent enough for even a vampire to sense - you should get there just in time for him to disembowel you. He has a distinct dislike of... ah... lower beings and half breeds such as yourself.” Another chuckle. “If I ever meet him again, I will look forward to hear the tale of your death.”

“If you wish for my death, why not kill me yourself?” Angel asked, all senses suddenly alert and scanning the surroundings for danger.

“Me? Kill you? How... ah... uncouth!” the demon lord said, distastefully. “Also... there would be questions... why did this fine young vampire, once the most feared in the world, suddenly disappear when he was at my house? It would all be rather... inconvenient. I hold no grudge against you, and Wolfram & Hart would surely take offence if I took away one of their projects. No - no - I will but leave you with the knowledge I have imparted... if you wander off into the desert and are never seen again, what has that to do with me?” He chuckled, and Angel had to restrain himself severely, so as not to jump up and punch him very hard. Instead he took a deep breath and smiled his best ‘I’m the Boss so don’t mess with me’-smile:

“In that case I thank you, Lord Omishkar, for the information you have given me. And... I might be more resilient than you think.” He bowed very lightly, knowing that politeness was essential, but resenting it wholeheartedly.

Omishkar laughed again. “Oh, youthful folly. But at least you have good manners - your Sire taught you well.”

Then with a dismissive hand wave he indicated that Angel could go. 

Walking back to where he had left the rented car, Angel was yet again deep in thought. But this time it had nothing to do with Buffy. He was wondering what exactly Omishkar had meant, when he said that Wolfram & Hart had ‘plans’ for him... did they? Had they quite simply been stalling all this time? Keeping them occupied with random hired soldiers while they were putting some scheme together? It was very much a possibility, he had to admit. All he had to do now though was to kill yet another lot on Sunday and then they could set off into the desert... he smiled as he thought of Omishkar’s description of the mysterious sorcerer. He might be powerful, but Angel was travelling with an ancient God - a demon purer than anything the world had seen for many, many millennia. He doubted there’d be any problems of the disembowelling kind. Maybe they should just stay here until Saturday night - Rome had too many bad memories, past and present. And if he could just stop brooding on the painful subject of Buffy, he might be OK. He might even call Nina, hear how she was doing. 

Happy with his decision he reached the car, finding Illyria perched on top of it, a fancy necklace of bones around her neck. She was obviously in a good mood, something approximating a smile on her face as she saw him: “I wish to return to Rome.”

********

 _Next day_  
Lunch had gone far better than anyone could have hoped. Giles had obviously filled Willow and Xander in on what Spike had been doing and both were distinctly more friendly than the night before. Spike was happy for Buffy’s sake, and he could see how she perked up considerably once she realised that she wouldn’t be dealing with constant hostility. The only drawback was that Spike also had to be on his best behaviour, which became rather wearing after a while. 

It was a long, leisurely lunch, since Giles had received a report that morning that the demon clans had been reconciled. The conversation flowed freely, although Willow and Xander did most of the talking. Willow especially had been very keen on some sight-seeing, but Giles had persuaded her to come back to the Council building and inspect some magical artifacts. Buffy and Spike had gratefully said good-bye and gone back to the flat. They had gone straight back to bed, the previous night not having brought them much sleep... 

It was late evening now, almost night. They had just finished a belated dinner when Buffy disappeared into the bedroom again, a look of mischief in her eyes. Spike was sitting on the sofa - all in black again, thankfully - the last few days playing in his head. He couldn’t believe it... continually had to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. Although no dream could ever have been as incredible as this. Last night... oh, last night had been more than his poor poetic skills could ever transform into words. He had once thought that nothing would ever be sweeter than the nights they had shared before the big battle. But this had been different... she had grown and matured in the time they had been apart. And she was happy - she was enjoying life, as he had hoped she would, and there was a twinkle in her eyes that he had not seen for years. Although the most amazing thing was the fact that _he_ made her happy. She would look at him, and her eyes would light up, as though she’d been connected to a power station (more than a hundred years and his analogies still sucked, but never mind...). He found it hard to get over. Once she had said that being with him was killing her - now it made her more alive. As he marvelled at this yet again, and cursed the Powers and the Senior Partners for involving him in their stupid wars, she came out of the bedroom, a secretive smile on her face and a present in her hand.

“I got you something,” she said, rather superfluously, and handed it over. It felt soft and he shot her a glance. More clothes?

“Go on - open it!” she urged, her excitement palpable.

Slowly he tore the paper and pulled out a red shirt. Not just an ordinary red shirt, but a near identical replica to the one he once wore back in Sunnydale. He looked up, eyes widening in surprise.

She grinned. “Tonight we’re going patrolling,” she announced, “And I thought it’d be fun to... go out with the Big Bad!”

“Huh?” He knew he was staring at her, mouth open, but it still seemed incredible.

“Go on - put it on!” she commanded, and he obeyed, feeling the soft silk caress his skin. She was looking at him, eyes bright, and then smiled an odd little smile. “You were wearing a shirt like that the night when... when that dancing demon was there and I kissed you?”

The pieces suddenly fell into place, and he smiled back. “That I was... and you were wearing-”

“Shh!” she said, that irrepressible smile on her face again. Then she put her hand in the pocket of the pretty summer dress she was wearing and pulled out black nail polish and eyeliner. “Get yourself ready... I’m going to go and change now.”

Handing the items to him, she vanished into the bedroom. He stared at what she had given him. He had not worn it since... oh, he couldn’t remember. But if she wanted the Big Bad, who was he to disagree?

He was carefully blowing on the second coat of nail polish, when she finally emerged. He looked up and found himself speechless yet again. Her hair, which had earlier been pulled back into a ponytail, now fell down in soft waves around her face and he hadn’t until then realised just how much blonder it was. It shone like white gold against the blood-red of her top - the latter being cut in a deep V, accentuating her neck and breasts. Slowly drinking her in, his eyes moved further down and found that her legs were encased in black leather trousers, so tight that his own jeans all of a sudden felt uncomfortable. On her feet were black leather boots, with heels that he was sure she could use as stakes. 

The look of astounded awe on his face must have been what she was hoping for, because suddenly she was giggling. “It’s that good?” she asked and he could only nod. He knew with absolute certainty that her underwear was small, black and lacy. And that she wouldn’t mind at all if he tore it off with his teeth, ruining it forever. Swallowing, he stood up shakily. “Patrolling, did you say?”

“Yeah - duty first, then... then fun!” There was a look in her eyes... a wicked, naughty look, that made him want to throw her up against the wall and have her there and then. A small growl escaped him, and she shot him a glance. “Hey... patrolling first, remember. But after... after anything goes.” 

She handed him his duster and then pulled on her own, and yet again he found thinking difficult. She had matched their clothes perfectly and although he didn’t pay much attention to his appearance anymore, he knew that they must be stunning together. Blonde hair, coupled with black leather and blood-red shirts...

She was obviously thinking along the same lines, scowling at the mirror that only showed herself. Then she picked up the Polaroid camera that had never been far from her side the last couple of days, and obligingly he took a picture of the two of them together. As the picture slowly blossomed onto the paper she sighed deeply. “Never thought I’d be able to do this - I used to fantasise about it you know - you and me, all dressed up.”

He nodded slowly and she caught his eyes, suddenly serious: “What I said - that anything goes - I meant it. Don’t hold back!”

“Don’t hold...” realising what she was trying to say, he frowned: “Buffy are you sure?”

“I’m very sure,” she said, mouth a determined line. “I know it’s probably too soon - and that we should talk and work through all the issues blah, blah, blah, but you’re leaving...” she faltered for a moment, swallowing hard and briefly closing her eyes. But when she opened them again they were clear, showing only determination. “You’re leaving and I want to get my money’s worth. Also Dawn will be back tomorrow, and although she’s very mature for her age, there are some things that... well, I don’t want her to know.”

He nodded in understanding and she smiled. “Now... I think I’ll have an axe tonight,” she said and opened her weapons' chest. Spike picked up his sword, attaching it to his belt, and seconds later they were out the door.

*****

As Angel and Illyria walked back towards the hotel in the midnight darkness, Angel was happy that he had persuaded Illyria to stay in Napoli for at least one night. He had not been able to discover _why_ she wanted to get back to Rome, but knew her well enough not to argue. So here they were in Rome, yet again. And it was only Wednesday. He sighed. 

Now if only he could avoid... the sudden smell of blood filled his nose and he turned aside, automatically following the scent. Soon enough he came to a pile of dead demons, neatly tucked away in a corner. Only when there he realised why he had instinctively followed the smell. Mixed in with the blood, he could make out the distinctive scents of Buffy and Spike. As he stood there, absentmindedly calculating how long it had been since they were here, a traitorous thought snuck into his head. He had wished to be a fly on the wall... if he followed the two of them - just for a while - he might be able to overhear something that could cast a light on their relationship. They were obviously patrolling and might talk as they did so. Just a hint - an indication to show why she had chosen Spike... and even as his head told him that it was a BAD idea and that it couldn’t possibly work, he had begun to follow the scent, calling out to Illyria that he’d come to the hotel later. She only shrugged and went her own mysterious way.


	14. Chapter 14

It only took Angel 10 minutes to catch up with Buffy and Spike. They were obviously not in a hurry, as well as being rather busy - he came across several more dead demons. When he realised that they were near he decided to take to the rooftops - it was less likely that they would spot him there. Moments later he saw them, leisurely walking down a road, arms around each other. Buffy had an axe in her left hand, Spike a sword in his right, but it was clear that they were only concentrating on each other. He could hear soft laughter and strained his ears to pick up what they were talking about.

After what felt like hours, but in all probability was only 15 minutes, Angel knew that the stalking had been even more of a stupid idea than his initial misgivings had indicated. The two blondes (and had Buffy dyed her hair? It looked lighter) had been going on some sort of trip down memory lane, but for the uninitiated they might as well have been speaking Chinese. There had been something about a troll - as well as something very disturbing about Giles’ bathtub and chains. Then they started talking about kitten poker and a shark headed guy... this had inexplicably ended up with them calling each other ‘Randy’ and ‘Joan’, as they laughed their heads off. They had even kept up their banter as they dispatched a few vampires. As Angel contemplated which way would be the quickest back to the hotel, they arrived at a graveyard. 

Buffy turned to Spike and smiled: “I’ve been saving this one up - also it’s the last stop tonight.”

“Is it now? After that it’s time to... talk through our issues?” Spike answered, grinning. Buffy didn’t reply to his question. She just looked over her shoulder as she walked through the gate: “Are you coming?”

Angel stopped his route-planning and reconsidered. They were going to talk? Yes, Spike had insinuated something else, but then Spike always did. He even tried flirting with Illyria when he got too bored. Maybe he should just keep watch for a little while longer...

Shortly afterwards he was lying on the roof of a crypt - cherubs and other assorted statues around the edges provided perfect hiding places and he was well enough positioned to see most of the cemetery. 

As he peered out from behind a solemn looking namesake, he saw that Buffy and Spike were now surrounded by a large group of demons. Buffy was trading insults with the leader and Spike was quietly smirking. Then suddenly a demon attacked and instantaneously the Slayer and the vampire were back to back, fighting. It was obvious that they had a history of fighting together, and Angel felt something tugging at him as he remembered that once _he_ had been her fighting partner of choice...

The demons were falling fast - they were large and powerful, but unable to keep up with the speed and agility of their executioners. Soon the couple had split up, killing the last few on their own. Angel waited, wondering what would happen now... would they have their talk? Maybe go home?

None of his half-formed ideas turned out to be correct. When the last demon had been put out of its misery, the fighters turned to face each other across the dead bodies. Spike, now in game face, looked at Buffy. Buffy looked back, a speculative look on her face. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder, the move so familiar that Angel felt it like a blow to his insides. It was such a ‘Buffy’-move... exuding such confidence and effortless grace, that all those feelings he’d tried to quell for so long came rushing back unbidden. ('You have a girlfriend, you have a girlfriend...' he silently repeated, but Buffy represented so much more than just an old flame. Without her, he wouldn't be who he was now.)

“Do we really need weapons for this?” she asked, voice light and slightly scornful.

Spike ran a finger up his sword and tilted his head: “I just like them - they make me feel all manly.”

Then - for reasons Angel couldn’t work out - they both laughed and tossed their weapons aside, before they slowly began circling each other, Spike's face melting back to its human guise. 

Angel was still watching, but he was unable to stop his mind from wandering. There was something about Buffy... something almost magical that he’d never been able to put his finger on. She might be dressed up as a little Spike clone tonight, but it still shone out of her... that confidence and strength that was such an integral part of her. He recalled the first time he had seen her, how strangely lost she had seemed. And he had wanted to take care of her so badly - to _help_ this innocent girl instead of destroying her like he had all the others. 

When he met her again in Sunnydale, she’d grown into her Slayerness - so powerful and sure of herself, he’d been drawn to her like a magnet. But the thing he always marvelled at was her strength... he had thrown everything at her, as Angelus, haunted her, toyed with her, terrorised her. And then - when he thought he’d stripped everything away - she had drawn on that well of strength inside and come out fighting. Every time she had appeared beaten she sprang back - the time when the Mayor ascended for one thing. She had been so battered after her fight with Faith, but she’d been the general, ordering her troops and saving the day. The last time he saw her in Sunnydale... there had been an Apocalypse; an army of vampires ready to take over the world at the behest of The First Evil. And she’d been laughing. So sure of herself and her power - the fact that she knew that somehow she was going to win. When he looked at her, he saw someone who got it right. Who always kept fighting, because that’s what mattered. Who didn’t fall apart when things got hard...

He watched her now, and he still couldn’t understand what could possibly have drawn her to Spike. He was good-looking, of course, but physical attraction wasn’t love... although as he observed them fighting, he saw that they were certainly well matched physically. It was intriguing seeing them spar - mesmerising almost. Both were at their peak, and the battle went back and forth, swirling and changing. Buffy was stronger, but Spike was cunning... and oddly enough they seemed unconcerned about hurting each other. If Angel had not known better he’d have thought they were actually trying to kill the other one. Suddenly, however, Spike got the upper hand. Angel recognised the move - it was a clever trick Illyria had showed them, and in the blink of an eye Spike had thrown Buffy up against the wall of a nearby crypt, making her cry out. 

The cry was eerily familiar - pain interlaced with pleasure, so tightly interwoven that it was impossible to tell them apart. Many women had cried out that way when in Angel’s hands, although the one who stood out was Darla... sweet mistress Darla who had been the one to teach him all the pleasures of pain - and the pain of pleasure. Thousands upon thousands of memories came back in an instant - rapture and ecstasy, agony and bliss... even when souled he’d been unable to withstand her allure. 

Hearing Buffy call out like this though... was this what she wanted from Spike? Because this was certainly not something Angel could give her.

All he could see was Spike’s back, Buffy’s arms encircling it. They were kissing now, and Angel began to understand to the full what a colossal mistake he’d made. Spike had now and again mentioned that their relationship was based on sex, so why was tonight likely to be any different? 

He looked around to see what would be the easiest way out... he was far enough away for them not to notice him, especially considering how wrapped up in each other they were. As he silently edged his way to the side of the crypt, he could hear them break the kiss, Buffy breathing in deeply and Spike sighing. 

“Mmmmm, I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed that,” Spike murmured, and Buffy giggled slightly breathlessly. 

“Which part?” she asked. 

“Well, this bit has to be a favourite,” he stated, obviously doing something, because Buffy moaned and Angel scuttled to the edge even more swiftly. He really, really had to get the hell out - as if seeing Connor and Cordy hadn’t been bad enough...

“Although the whole girl-package is pretty neat,” Spike continued. “I mean - don’t get me wrong... Angel’s a handsome man and all that, but it just not the same, y’know?”

Angel nearly fell to the ground in a very undignified heap. Spike had just said - _what_? Clinging onto the crypt he looked at the couple and saw that Buffy’s face was a picture in astonishment. Her mouth had fallen open and her eyes were staring at Spike as though he’d just grown another head.

“You... you and Angel...?” she said feebly, obviously too shocked to say anything else. Her sentiment was shared by Angel, whose face mirrored hers, although she didn’t know it. He’d always thought that Spike had a piece of his brain missing, but this proved it. What on earth was he playing at?

“Well, you know how it is... two guys all alone, long empty nights... or days I should say...”

Spike had always been unable to lie convincingly, and Buffy’s face went from surprise to fury in an instant as she pushed him away. Hands now in tight fists, she yelled at him: “What the _hell_ did you do that for?” 

Spike cracked up and jumped out of her reach as she aimed for his face. Furiously she pursued as Spike kept dancing out of her reach, apologising when not overcome with laughter. 

Moving backwards is not advisable in a cemetery however, and soon he stumbled over a gravestone, landing flat on his back. Buffy jumped on him, like a tiger on prey, and for a moment furiously tried to punch him. But he easily averted her blows, so she changed her tactics and grabbed hold of his coat - shaking him: “That wasn’t funny!”

“Yes it was!” he protested, weak from laughter. “Your face...” another helpless giggle, “Your face, love - it was priceless.”

Exasperated she threw her hands up in the air: “God you’re hopeless!”

He smirked and tilted his head. “What can I tell you baby - I’ve always been bad.”

“Bad? Bad doesn’t even begin to cover it! You’re-” she stopped abruptly, then said in a completely different voice: “That rings a bell... when did you say that?”

“Um...” the wide grin gave way to a frown as he considered her question. “It was... oh - it was the night I told you about the Slayers I killed.” He stopped and stared into the distance. “God you pissed me off that night. I was going to kill you, you know.”

”Really?” she said softly, and there was something odd about her voice that Angel couldn’t place.

Spike chuckled quietly. “What - you didn’t notice the shotgun?”

“Of course I saw the shotgun you idiot - I meant, were you really going to kill me?” As she said it again, Angel realised what it was in her voice that sounded so odd - it was affection. Spike had wanted to kill her and she found it - _endearing_? How could that be? Their own violent past was now so far behind them that it did not hurt too much to talk about - she had almost joked about it that time in Sunnydale. But he could not imagine her finding it an endearing thing.

Spike, however, didn’t find it strange at all. He looked at her with a small smile. “Well, you were just so stuck up and righteous and managed to press all sorts of buttons. So I thought - screw the headache, I’ll just kill her and get it over with. Of course then when I found you, you were crying, which kinda threw me. Love’s bitch and all that...”

He sighed and let the sentence hang in the air. Buffy was quiet, seemingly lost in thought. Angel couldn’t see her face and wondered what was going through her head.

“Spike?” she said after a while. “Yes pet?” he replied, obviously sensing that her mood had changed. 

“Did I... did I ever say thank you? For being there that night? Or for all the other nights? All those times you were just there for me?”

Spike was looking at her, so focussed that Angel was sure that a whole parade of demons could have walked by without causing him to even blink. “Dunno. Does it matter?” he replied cautiously. 

She was silent again, then slowly started speaking, searching for the right words: “It does matter... it matters because you pulled me through. When I was ready to give up, you wouldn’t let me - and sometimes you were a complete jerk, but you made me care again when I just felt like letting some random demon have their one good day.” She took a deep breath and lifted her face: “I’m... I’m in a good place now. My life is better than it has been for years, but I get scared sometimes - what’ll happen when things get tough again? Because I’m sure they will - I’m a Slayer, and I can’t ever stop. It’s who I am. But - it’s so hard being the strong one, having to cut everyone out.” 

She did a funny little laugh, that almost sounded like a sob. “Everyone except you! I know whatever happens, whatever I do, you can take it. I... I wasn’t ready for you not to be there. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. You were like my secret corner where I could hide from everything and I want that back. When I saw you Sunday night, I thought I could keep you this time...” Her voice trailed off, but then she shook her head angrily. “God - listen to me. Just how much more pathetic can I get?”

Spike smiled wryly, but then took her hands and looked at her solemnly. “Buffy, I promise you that if things ever get hard - really hard - I’ll be there. If you need me, I’ll come. Always.”

She threw her arms around his neck and for a long moment they just embraced, then pulled apart and exchanged a soft kiss.

Buffy sniffled a bit, and Spike smiled a little. “Tonight didn’t quite turn out the way we planned, did it pet?” he said, and she shook her head. “Shall we just head home?”

She nodded at this, and he carefully extracted himself. “You just stay there for a minute while I find our weapons, OK?”

She didn’t protest and Spike started looking amongst the dead demons for the sword and axe.

After a bit Buffy spoke, voice lighter than before: “Spike?”

“Yes Buffy?” he replied, as he looked through some bushes.

“If... if we ever got married I’d still want ‘Wind beneath my wings’ for the first dance.”

Pulling out her axe from the tangled branches he looked at her, a fond smile on his lips. “I thought you might,” he said, then spotted his sword and picked it up, attaching it to his belt. Axe in hand he walked over to her, holding out his hand. “Lets see how high I can make you fly tonight,” he smirked and she laughed as she got up. Quietly they walked off, Buffy resting her head on Spike’s shoulder.

 

When their footsteps finally died down Angel tiredly put a hand across his face. Well, he’d wanted to know what was going on between the two of them. Now he knew. _Congratulations Angel, the mission was a great success!_ He groaned and jumped to his feet, angrily kicking off one of the crypt’s ornaments. Why did he never learn? 

What he needed now was alcohol - preferably Irish whiskey and plenty of it. If he drank enough, maybe he could erase tonight from his memory. So many certainties, so many absolutes - all wrecked. And dammit she really loved Spike! She’d been suicidal - _his Buffy? Ready to give up?_ \- and Spike - _Spike who’d told him that all there was between them was sex_ \- had helped her! He was ‘the wind beneath her wings’ - they’d even talked about marriage at some point in the past. Maybe he could find some demons to kill - he needed to rip someone’s head off. He could try to follow Illyria’s scent... she seemed to have some sort of sixth sense when it came to finding violence. But - oh, she’d walked off on her mysterious quest. And he didn’t want any more surprises tonight.

He was stuck somewhere between laughter and tears, suddenly wondering if this wizard guy in the desert could do mindwipes - because this night was something he’d rather forget.

*******

It was around lunchtime the next day when Angel was woken by something very persistent. Slowly opening his eyes, his head a giant heap of pain due to the excessive amount of alcohol he’d consumed, he saw Illyria standing by the side of the bed, a look of excitement on her usually impassive face: “Get up vampire. Follow! It has arrived.”


	15. Chapter 15

Dawn was humming happily to herself as she quietly opened the flat door. She threw her jacket on top of Buffy’s new leather coat, which was sprawled in a very large heap on the sofa, and went into her room to put her bag down. She’d not been surprised when there was no Buffy at the bus station - Buffy tried very hard to ‘do the mom thing’, but wasn’t always very reliable. And Dawn really didn’t need parenting any more - she was eighteen years old after all. Although that hadn’t stopped her blushing when Antonio had been flirting with her yesterday... mmm, school trips were certainly of the good.

Going back into the living room, she noted the weapons lying by the front door and nodded, her suspicions confirmed. There had obviously been patrolling last night and Buffy must therefore still be asleep, even though it was now midday. She grinned to herself as she walked to her sister’s bedroom - this would be fun. 

Dramatically she threw the door open and declared: 

“You know - if you sleep this late, people will think you’re still dating vampir-” 

Her mouth fell open in shock as she took in the sight that greeted her. Not one, but two blondes were staring back at her from the bed, tightly clutching the sheet. And one of them was most certainly not The Immortal who’d fallen over and landed in some bleach. She stared for a few breathless seconds at the half-naked, blue eyed vampire in her sister’s bed, before she turned around and fled.

********

Buffy was dreaming very happily and didn’t really want to wake up, even if it was because Spike was gently kissing her. Snuggling closer into his embrace, she mumbled: “What is it?”

“Don’t want to worry you love, but I can hear someone walking around...”

“Don’t be silly,” she countered, but just then the door to the bedroom was flung open and Dawn strode in - saying something, although Buffy didn’t register what it was. Head still sleep-heavy she stared at her sister, unable to say a word, and then watched as Dawn took in the scenario - before promptly leaving.

“Oh God!” she said, staring wildly around her. “What time is it? I was going to pick her up... I _know_ I set the alarm.”

Spike looked around and proceeded to fish out her alarm clock from under the bed. “I think we... _slayed_ it last night,” he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. She stared at him, incredulous.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, come on - did you _see_ her face?” 

He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Yes I saw her face! This was _exactly_ what I wanted to avoid. She’s my sister and she shouldn’t have found out about you - us - this - like this.” She frowned for a moment, trying to work out what she was trying to say: “This isn’t just some stupid joke - this is my _life_ and I’ve just traumatised my sister. Again!”

She jumped out of bed and pulled some underpants from a drawer, ignoring Spike’s appreciative growl. Damn him - sometimes he was just such a... _man_.

Looking around she grabbed the first thing she could find, which turned out to be her tiny kimono - blood red and very short, with only half-sleeves. She saw Spike pulling on his jeans as she tied the knot, but decided to ignore him and strode out of the room, fuming.

Only a few steps into the living room however, he caught her up - putting a hand on her arm. “Look Buffy, I’m sorry.”

She turned to face him, another tirade on her lips (trying very hard to ignore how hot he looked in nothing but his pants), but just then the front door flew open and in came Illyria, followed by a haggard-looking Angel.

The latter leaned against the door frame and asked: “Are you actually going to tell me what the hell we are doing here?” before looking up and seeing the couple across the room. His face changed from worn and tired to stony in an instant and he slowly turned his head to look at Illyria’s now immobile form: 

“We’re leaving!” he said, voice harsh.

Buffy felt like her insides had turned to ice. It was one thing to choose Spike over Angel, being all polite and friendly, but to face her first love after having just got out of bed with her new one... and - _ohmygod he can smell it, can’t he?_ she suddenly realised, horrified, as she tried to work out what to do. 

Dawn came out of the kitchen then, a croissant in her hand, and already talking: “Buffy, it’s OK really, Andrew told me...” 

She stopped and looked at Angel and Illyria. “What-?”

Upon seeing her, Illyria’s face lit up - a delighted smile gracing her features. 

“The Key!” she said, triumphantly, and in an instant she was standing in front of Dawn, placing a hand on her chest.

A bright green light, trimmed with blue, shone around and Buffy was frozen on the spot - a horrible feeling of déjà vu and inevitable doom settling over her as she watched her sister’s terrified face.


	16. Chapter 16

  
Tired, hung-over and grumpy, Angel stared at the scene in front of him in mute incomprehension. It had all happened so quickly that his head couldn’t join up the dots to make sense of what he saw. Then he heard a growl and saw Spike leap from Buffy’s side, face changing mid-jump, knocking Illyria away. The green light went out as abruptly as if a switch had been pressed, and Spike was now standing in front of Dawn, fangs bared and every muscle taut and ready for a fight. Buffy appeared to be frozen in place – her face as shocked as the time she'd come to LA after Faith and Angel had hit her.

Illyria slowly picked herself up from the floor by the wall where she had landed in a very un-God-like heap - trying to re-assert her usual grace. Her face was a mask of fury, anger in every movement.

“You don’t come near the girl,” Spike said, yellow eyes flashing.

At his words Dawn burst into tears, and Buffy rushed to her, hugging her tightly and protectively. The glare she threw Illyria’s way made it clear she was ready to rip off the God’s head with her bare hands.

Illyria paid them no heed as she stared down Spike in cold rage. “You _dare_ defy me!”

He eyed her cautiously, speaking slowly and deliberately. “I defied a Hell God before. You touch Dawn again and I swear I will kill you just as dead as Glory.”

“You do not have the power,” she answered, scornfully. “I am Illyria, and although my power is diminished, you are but an insignificant worm compared to me. Your defiance is wearying - any true follower of mine would have brought me The Key as my rightful due.”

Before Spike could reply, Angel cut in: “Could someone please explain what’s going on?”

They all looked at him in surprise, obviously having forgotten that he was there.

Spike, turning his attention back to Illyria, answered. 

“What’s happening is that our God-King decided to become a back-stabbing, lying little bitch.”

Illyria regarded him coolly: “Sneakiness is the way of this world. I have learned much since I first rose.”

“But... what’s all the Key-business?” Angel asked, as he vainly tried to remember what Spike had told them.

Deciding to ignore Spike, Illyria turned to face him, calmly replying.

“The Key is an ancient treasure - much prized by those less powerful. I never had the need for a trinket such as this, but wars were fought by those seeking the power to travel between dimensions. When Glorificus was imprisoned in this world the Keepers of the Key made it human - rendering it practically useless. Only by rituals and bloodletting can it now be wielded and even then only at an auspicious time. It will be many ages of this world before the stars align themselves again in such a manner.”

Dawn spoke up now, voice slightly wobbly but determined. “Is... is that why no one has come looking for me - because it’s not the right time?”

Illyria shrugged. “Possibly. It is not my concern.”

Angel still couldn’t work it out. “But if the Key doesn’t work, what were you doing?”

“She was trying to turn her back to pure energy!” Buffy said, voice frosty as an Arctic winter.

Illyria smiled at this, like a teacher who has discovered a bright pupil in a class of dunces. “I will absorb The Key and wield it at my pleasure - no longer will I be bound to this dimension! We can travel wherever we please, looking for the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart.”

Angel stopped at this, suddenly seeing the whole thing in a new light. Not that killing Buffy’s little sister should ever be allowed, but if they could find a way around...

“Is there a way of... extracting The Key without harming Dawn?” he asked, hopefully.

This had clearly never occurred to Illyria and she looked at him thoughtfully. “I do not know. If you can find a way, I will wait. If not, the Key will yet be mine.”

Angel could see Spike visibly relax at her words as he turned to look at Buffy, face human again. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’m thinking that another Hell God wants to kill my sister - someone that _you_ brought into my home!” she replied, obviously still shaken.

A host of conflicting emotions flew across Spike’s face, but all he said was, “Remember Willow restoring Tara? Maybe she could work some clever mojo in this case too. She’s still in town, right?”

The words meant nothing to Angel, but Buffy frowned in concentration. “Willow - Willow once tried to turn Dawn back... I guess she has enough power.” 

She closed her eyes, leaning on Dawn. “God I hate days like these.”

Taking a deep breath she pulled herself together, once again the Slayer. “Fine. I’ll call Willow... and I really need to get dressed.”

***********

Rome was supposed to be fun, Xander was certain of this. He could clearly remember the last time he’d visited Buffy, when that Immortal guy she’d been dating had shown them such a good time that Xander had almost decided that he wanted to move to Rome as soon as possible. And yet, here he was in what he had thought was party central, feeling that a research session with Andrew might be more entertaining. He should have known better than to go sightseeing with Willow and Giles. 

He sighed. They were now at the Colosseum and his two companions were trying to out-do each other with knowledge of obscure facts. Last time he’d been here, The Immortal had painted a word-picture so vivid, that Xander was sure he had heard a lion roar... 

Maybe he should go get an ice-cream? It was the only excuse he could think of to get a few moments peace. But just then Willow’s cell phone rang and he prayed fervently that it was some sort of big crisis and not just Kennedy saying good morning - or good night... what time was it in Brazil now? But Willow frowned in a worried way and then said a quick goodbye. She looked up. 

“That was Buffy. She asked me - or _us_ I guess - to come round straight away. She sounded really worried.”

He knew that he shouldn’t, but Xander felt very relieved. The taxi-journey was wonderfully swift and in no time at all they were at Buffy’s flat. And neither Willow nor Giles had quoted a single date the whole time - trouble was a-brewing and they were the cavalry! So when they finally walked through the door, Xander felt in a rather jolly mood. As he took in the small group, he immediately picked out the weird blueish demon he’d never seen before, thinking out loud as he went through his mental comic book file. “Hey – who's this? The Blue Beetle? The Big Blue? The Blue Meanie?” until his eyes exploded with glee, “A smurf?”

Next thing he knew, he was being slammed against the wall, feet dangling a few very uncomfortable inches off the floor with the demon’s surprisingly strong little hand in a vice-like grip around his throat. Breathing was rapidly becoming a problem, as he thought he saw Spike and Angel talking to the insane demon, telling it to let go. Moments later, when he started blacking out, the hand was abruptly removed and he found himself on the floor, gasping for air. Spike was standing in front of him, an amused look on his face. 

“In less than 10 seconds you managed to insult the Hell God - that has got to be a record of some kind.”

“Wha- wha- what?” he stammered, as he saw Willow kneel down next to him, a concerned frown on her face. 

“Hell God?” she asked, puzzled.

“I told you about her yesterday,” Spike said, “Illyria - remember?”

Willow nodded and Xander made a grimace that he hoped conveyed the same sentiment. Although Spike could have mentioned that the blasted thing was blue...

Half-turning, Spike looked around. “Hey - your highness; what have you got against smurfs anyway?”

The Illyria thing stared at them coldly. “Wesley once called me a smurf when he was intoxicated. It was obvious that this was not a term of worship. I will not tolerate such mockery from a lower being.”

Spike and Angel looked at each other and sighed. 

“Look your Royal Blueness, he wasn’t mocking - it’s quite simply how he talks.” Spike stopped and thought for a moment and then continued, a tired look on his face: “He lost an eye in the fight against the First Evil, see? He’s um, almost a warrior. _And_ he happens to be the best friend of the witch who’s going to help you, so just get over yourself for a moment OK?”

Unemotional eyes studied Xander for an uncomfortably long time and then they travelled on to Willow who was still crouched at his side. A small smile appeared on her previously impassive face.

“Power... I can sense it from here. This one should indeed be able to do the allotted task.”

Willow frowned. “Allotted task? Anyone wanna tell me why we’re here?”

Giles, who had seated himself on the sofa, said resignedly, “Should have known it had something to do with _her_ ,” and waved in Illyria’s direction. “What’s the matter now? More... _surprises_?”

Spike and Angel shared another look and Xander began to feel seriously wigged... it was a bit like that vibe he got off Spike and Buffy - that thing where he was sure they were reading each other’s thoughts or something. He began to understand what Giles had meant when he’d described the souled vamp duo as ‘unsettling’.

“This was a surprise for all of us,” Angel said curtly. Xander suddenly realised that the vampire looked rather worn and wondered what had happened. As he looked around he saw the tension on all the faces - noticed Buffy’s face looking more worried than he had seen it for months, Dawn doing her I-don't-care teen routine and Spike, despite his blustering, looking rather subdued. _Oh crap, it’s a personal problem and not a general one,_ he realised, hoping that Willow was up for whatever it was that they were going to do...

********

It was late by the time everyone finally left, leaving Spike, Buffy and Dawn alone in the flat. There had been long explanations and discussions, Willow calling up the coven for some advice and doing a ‘reading’ of Dawn and Illyria to see how she could go about transferring The Key to the God without killing Dawn. In the end Illyria had grudgingly allowed for a power 'swap’ so that the transfer would be two ways. It was very complicated and Buffy hadn’t understood most of it. Dawn had been very calm throughout which had added to Buffy’s worry. But if all went to plan by tomorrow night Dawn would no longer be The Key. She would actually be something approximating a normal girl, although she would somehow be held up by magic... Buffy plumped down on the sofa. “What do we do now?” she asked no one in particular.

“Make dinner?” Dawn suggested.

Spike slowly nodded and replied, “Could get a take away if you’re not feeling up to it - my treat?”

“Take away sounds good,” Dawn decided. “Buffy - what would you like?”

“Huh? I... I don’t know - just order whatever you want.”

Not too long after they were all sitting round the small kitchen table and tucking in to the food. Buffy didn’t do much talking - mostly she watched Dawn and Spike re-connecting. She knew they had been friends once and Dawn had told her some of the stuff they had done while Buffy had been ‘gone’. Dawn had been upset initially that she’d never made up with Spike before he died, but when Buffy thought about it, she had not mentioned this for months. The explanation was simple enough - after Spike and Angel’s rendezvous in May, Dawn had accidentally overheard Andrew talking on the phone to Giles. She had then ruthlessly pulled the truth out of him and armed with such potent blackmail, she had been the one to convince Andrew to move back to London. Buffy remembered that she’d been surprised by his swift departure at the time, but had thought it Giles’s doing. 

So now Dawn was not too wigged at suddenly having Spike back in their lives... the manner of his introduction had been rather unusual, but she was far more relaxed about the whole thing than Buffy could have ever hoped for. The evening was quiet and enjoyable, and no one mentioned tomorrow... until bedtime.

Dawn had gone to her room, her parting line being, “Don’t worry - I’m cool with everything, OK? Do you have any idea how often I wished that I was just ordinary back when we were dealing with Glory? Yes there was a time when I thought it'd be really cool to be a Slayer or something, but I really like my life now. And I trust Willow not to screw up – I have to.”

Buffy had smiled and nodded because it seemed the thing to do, but it wasn’t until she was wrapped up in Spike’s arms a little later, that she finally allowed herself to relax for the first time all day. 

“I don’t like being helpless,” she said, knowing he’d understand - she loved that about him. 

“I know,” he replied softly as he stroked her hair.

She snuggled closer to him, nestling her head under his chin, staring ahead. “I froze. If you hadn’t jumped, Dawn might...” she found she couldn’t finish the sentence because of the huge lump that suddenly rose in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to erase the memory of Dawn’s terrified face.

“It was for me to do Love,” he said quietly. “Nothing will ever change the past, but hopefully today made up in some small way for my failure all those years ago.”

She blinked and lifted her face to look at him. He was staring into the distance and the look on his face was like a mirror of how she was feeling. “Used to have nightmares... would see her pretty little face just as it looked before Doc threw me off the tower. She was so scared...”

He stopped and looked at her. “Don’t beat yourself up. It’s all going to be fine.”

She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, absentmindedly thinking that it was nice that they didn’t break furniture anymore, because the bed was wonderfully comfy...

************

Elsewhere in the city, others were still busy. In the Council’s library Willow was carefully preparing for the big spell she was going to perform, trying not to let her excitement overcome her common sense - Giles and Johnson, the local Watcher, were busy researching with her. 

Xander had escaped and was happily entertaining a few of the resident Slayers who always enjoyed ‘hearing the tales of Sunnydale’. 

Angel and Illyria had found a large vamp-nest and were dusting vampires with swift and silent relish.

And in her office, where she had a magnificent view of the old, historic town, Ilona Costa Bianca put down the telephone with a satisfied air and turned to the expensively dressed man sitting across from her: 

“I believe thees was the final piece of the plan, no? When Sunday night she come we will be ready! I think it will be most enjoyable - you are a very clever man Mr. Simmons!”

“I like to think so,” he replied and smiled a slow, satisfied smile, resembling a Siamese cat who’d just caught an eagle.


	17. Chapter 17

Buffy didn’t sleep well. She woke up in the middle of the night, her nightmare so vivid that it took Spike a good while to calm her down. As it slowly faded from her mind, she tried to explain it - Glory had taken Dawn again, but instead of changing into Ben she morphed into Illyria - her weakness suddenly her strongest point. And Buffy had been trapped in a coffin as the blue god with chilling detachment killed her sister, leaving Buffy all alone.

When she was finally breathing calmly again, Spike looked at her searchingly: “Have you ever discussed this with Dawn?”

“My dream? I only just had it... and here I thought I was all done with nightmares.”

“No, I meant the Key thing.”

Buffy mutely shook her head.

“You probably should. She seems to be dealing with it OK, but still... if nothing else it might give you some peace of mind.”

She nodded again and swallowed, trying not to give in to the sobs that were welling up in her throat. The worst part had been the helplessness and loneliness. It hadn’t been a Slayer-dream, she was sure of that, but it had still felt almost prophetic, because this was how her life was... she always ended up alone. She wasn’t very good with words, wasn’t good at forming bonds with new people. She hugged Spike more tightly, wishing that she could stop time for a little bit... Sunday was looming large on the horizon and then he’d be gone. When would she see him again? He didn’t even know where he was going.

As if reading her thoughts, Spike put a finger under her chin and lifted her face. “Now the good thing about all this is, that if it works I can come see you anytime! How about that?”

She stared at him and then laughed. How come she hadn’t thought of that? With a smile on her lips she dozed off again, no more nightmares troubling her sleep.

 

The next morning she sat Dawn down and broached the subject of Keyness. Dawn smiled serenely as she answered, and Buffy wondered when she had matured so much.

“Y’know I used to wonder about it... the whole Key-thing. Lie, did I have any powers? Were there any other prophecies about me and all that. I even thought about asking Giles to look stuff up, but then...”

She frowned slightly. “You know when it was my 18th birthday? And I invited my new friends out for dinner and got pretty drunk and you were really pissed off because I came home late and I’d been drinking?”

Buffy nodded, wondering where Dawn was going with this.

“And it just struck me one day, that when it was your 18th birthday your powers were taken away and you had to fight a psychotic vampire who’d kidnapped mom. So - I think I’m happy being normal. I’ll probably end up as a Watcher because I really enjoy all the studying, but I’m not sure I’d want to look after a Slayer. It’s hard enough having to worry about you, I don’t think I’d want to be actually responsible for someone. Sometimes it’s boring not being special, it’s true, but I like just being me now.”

Buffy didn’t know what to say, but she felt very relieved. Also Dawn wasn’t likely to get any supernatural boyfriends... 

Then Xander turned up bearing breakfast and all there was time for was to give Dawn a hug.

********

The spell itself was over surprisingly quickly. Willow came round shortly after Xander, Watchers trailing in her wake, bearing books and scrolls and various magical paraphernalia. Illyria and Angel arrived not long afterwards, the Hell God looking almost excited.

Willow then spent more than an hour with Dawn and Illyria, going over her notes and a couple of musty old tomes, until she was sure that they knew exactly what to do. Buffy was watching them, trying to work out just when Dawn had become so adept at demon languages.

When she ventured a question Dawn rolled her eyes, replying that she’d taught herself Ancient Sumerian when she was only 16... She liked learning, remember? And Johnson had been very helpful in getting hold of stuff for her.

Funnily enough the biggest problem turned out to be getting Illyria to sit down on the floor to hold hands with the other two. She considered this beneath her and degrading. But Willow knew the spell would be very draining, so standing up was out of the question. Illyria finally agreed to sit on a kitchen chair and the spell could begin.

Buffy was leaning against Spike, taking comfort from the tight grip of his arms around her. But the spell was over before she had worked up an appropriate amount of worry... there was glowing and a little chanting and something that looked like electricity running up Dawn’s and Illyria’s arms, and then WIllow sat back with a tired and satisfied air and said: “Done!” 

Buffy swiftly went to Dawn, who told her that she felt _fine_ and to stop fussing! Buffy sighed and then her attention was caught by Illyria. The blue god stood up, slowly stretched out her hand and - as a wide grin spread across her face - created a portal. Before anyone could stop her she stepped through and the portal winked out of existence.

There was a moment's silence as they all watched the now empty air, before Xander spoke: “Well, I think we can say that the spell worked.”

“Indeed,” Giles answered, before he and Johnson buried themselves in some of the books they had brought, their excitement palpable.

Spike let go of Buffy, after making sure that _she_ was OK, and turned to Angel: “She’ll be back?”

“She better,” Angel replied as he sat himself down on the sofa. “We’re going to the desert by the Dead Sea next.”

“Are we now? What’s in the desert?” Spike asked and sat himself down on the sofa next to Angel.

“Some ancient sorcerer. Used to be a friend of the Senior Partners.” Angel answered.

“A-ha. Nice sunny location he chose to settle down in,” Spike said lightly, as he casually studied his fingernails.

” _Spike_...” Angel said warningly, and Buffy could sense an old argument raising its head. She just didn’t know what they could be talking about.

“I’m just saying...”

“Don’t!”

She crossed her arms and sent them a ‘look’. “What are you talking about - or _not_ talking about?”

Angel eyed her glumly: “The Gem of Amara.”

Spike shot him a dirty look, but addressed himself to Buffy: “Well I might have mentioned that having it would have made our lives a bit easier the last few months.” 

He turned to Angel. “And yes I know why you destroyed it and all that, but I still think you could have just stuck it in a bank vault somewhere. But no - it’s all or nothing with you, every time. And to think all the trouble I went through to find it.”

“Does that trouble include torturing me?” Angel asked frostily.

“Torture?” Buffy asked, appalled and fascinated.

Spike suddenly looked a bit subdued, but still defiant. “Well I wanted it back and he wouldn’t tell me where it was. So, um, I hired this guy to torture him for me. But it was only a few hot pokers... _I’ve_ had far worse!”

“Really?” Angel said drily.

“Yes _really_. I’ve been tortured by a Hell God _and_ the First Evil. Not to mention burning to death. Oh - and I’ve been staked! _Twice_!”

Buffy realised that everyone was now watching the argument. Xander - as usual unable to keep his mouth shut - asked: “Well if you were staked, how come you’re not all dusty?”

Spike sighed. “Well, the first time was when I had the Gem - it was kinda fun actually. The other time -” he stopped, suddenly unwilling to continue. 

“Go on,” Buffy said. If he was going to be bragging-boy he’d better follow through.

“Riley,” he muttered.

“Huh?” Buffy knew that this wasn’t the most eloquent of responses, but she was completely thrown. _Riley_ had staked him? How? Why?

This time it was Willow who managed to get the question in first: “Sorry - but why did Riley stake you? Um... and how come you didn’t die?”

“Plastic stake.” Spike answered. “He wanted revenge after... _you know_!” he shot Buffy a look.

“Oh!” she said, suddenly seeing past event in a new light. “Oh... he _staked_ you?”

“He was pretty pissed off... and he couldn’t really take it out on you, could he now?”

She shook her head slowly, not knowing what to say, but beginning to feel rather pissed off herself. Yes Spike had obviously acted in his own interest, but still - compared to what Riley had been doing...

She looked up and saw the questions on her friends faces.

“What’s this about Riley?” Xander asked.

“It’s private,” she muttered, and hoped to the Powers That Be that they’d all back off. And if she ever saw Riley again... well, thankfully that was very unlikely. 

"A hundred years in a hell dimension," Angel said to no one in particular, and Spike's eyes narrowed.

"Oh boo fucking hoo. You were trying to destroy the world."

Buffy realised that this was about Acathla, and felt sudden waves of guilt. _She_ had been the one to send him there...

"Angel-" she said, but Spike cut her off, turning to the other vampire triumphantly.

"And now you've upset Buffy. Well done champ, enjoy your pity-party victory."

Angel's face clouded over, but then Giles spoke, eyes not leaving the ancient scroll he was studying.

"No wonder Illyria wanted to get away..."

Both vampires turned their heads in unison, and Buffy felt that the whole thing was equal parts ridiculous and pointless. Men, vampires, it was the same pissing contest every time.

Xander - surprisingly - was the one to come to everyone's rescue as he swiftly changed the subject: “Well, enough of all that, what do we do now?”

Giles looked up and replied: “I’m afraid I’ll need to head back to England today - remember there is the small matter of the conference to organise. To be perfectly honest I wouldn’t mind some help.” And he looked around in a meaningful manner.

Willow frowned. “I’d love to help, but I think I need to recuperate a bit first.”

“How about we come tomorrow?” Xander suggested. “Then we can have one last night in Rome, and maybe do something _fun_ for a change! Get our dance thing on maybe?” 

Willow was obviously a bit stung by his comment and nodded enthusiastically. “Oh it’s been ages since I’ve been clubbing. I think it might be just what I need. Dawn are you coming?”

Dawn shook her head. “Not me - I’m going to stay overnight at Julia’s. A sort of post-study trip sleepover.”

Buffy tried to say something, but Dawn shot her the ‘I’m _fine_ ’ stare that she had by now perfected. So instead Buffy turned to Spike. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “Could be fun I suppose... like the good old times at the Bronze, eh?” And he winked at her as she felt her cheeks redden.

Xander, looking at Willow and not seeing Buffy’s changing colour, was suddenly getting excited. “This could be really good. Maybe we could even find a place with balconies and pool tables?”

Buffy closed her eyes. This could turn out to be a really, really bad idea...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI this chapter has minimal plot and huge amounts of self-indulgence. (And in case you are not familiar, [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oxCDAs3kbAU) is the scene I reference.)

Like most of the night clubs in Rome, the one Buffy finally settled on for the outing was located in a basement. The difference was in the layout. The entrance was at street level and the double doors opened up onto a long balcony above the dance floor. Curved stairways at either end provided the only way down and Buffy had often thought to herself that the place was a virtual death trap if ever a fire started... But hey - it was a nice place with excellent music and the drinks were very reasonably priced. No pool tables, sadly, but Xander would just have to cope. And this way hopefully he and Spike wouldn’t start arguing. Thank goodness that Angel had said that he wasn’t coming, so it would only be four of them. And as long as Spike could keep his mouth shut about the past...

It turned out to be retro night, which was good since it would mean that Spike wouldn’t be too snarky. For some reason pop songs made him grumpy - more so than they used to. He’d muttered something about empath demons when she’d asked, but that was all he was willing to say.

Having miraculously found a table, Xander pulled out his wallet and threw it on the fake wood in a flash manner. “Right - what are you having?”

Spike looked at him with amusement. “No worries Harris - tonight is my treat.”

Somehow Xander managed to convey more astonishment with just one eye than most people could with two. “ _Your_ treat?”

Spike smirked and turned to the girls. “What can I get you?”

Buffy, laying down her coat on the table, shrugged. “Just a coke or something - I’m here to dance, not drink.” 

Making her ‘thinking face’ Willow thought for a moment. “Maybe a _tiny_ beer, just to bring a little pep to the polka!”

 

There was no polka, but plenty of dancing nonetheless - as well as a bit of drinking and talking - but when midnight came, Willow began to yawn. “Sorry, but I stayed up really late last night studying and stuff. I think I’d better head for a nice comfy bed.”

“I’m pretty wiped too,” Xander said. “I guess the two of us will take off.”

“We’ll stay a bit longer I think,” Buffy said vaguely, as she re- tied the bow on her little cardigan for the twentieth time that evening. 

“So we’ll see you - Sunday?” Willow asked. “We’re going to London tomorrow.”

Casting a quick glance at Spike, Buffy bit her lip. “Probably won’t come until Monday... see you then, OK? Be safe!”

Hugs were exchanged and the two Scoobies slowly made their way through the writhing and bouncing crowd. 

Spike’s eyes followed them. “Thought they’d never leave,” he said, pulling Buffy down on his lap for a deep kiss.

“Stop it! They’re my friends. And we’ve had a very nice evening haven’t we?”

“Going to get nicer still if I have anything to do with it,” he smirked. She tried to look at him sternly, but was distracted by the mixed humour and lust in his eyes.

Instead she lifted up her jacket to get at her bag and noticed Xander’s wallet next to it. “Oh - do you think he needs this? Or should I just hold onto it until I see him again?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Screw Xander and his wallet! Well not literally of course, but I’m sure Willow could magic him up a new one if necessary. Now would you please concentrate on something not Scooby-related?”

“OK,” she said breezily and pulled out her lipstick, carefully reapplying the now somewhat smudged red colour. Then a new track was put on and she suddenly sat bolt upright.

“Oh My God! It’s - it’s that song from Dirty Dancing? You _have_ to dance with me to this one!”

She jumped up from his lap, seeing the stubborn unwillingness in his eyes. But she knew that he would do just about anything for her - and tonight she had her clever secretary-to-vixen trick! First she pulled out the red lacquered chopsticks that held up her hair, making it fall freely around her face in golden-y, platinum waves. All those hours practising when she was 14 finally paying off big time. Then she swiftly shrugged out of the cardigan and did a little twirl so he could see just how small the dress actually was... she knew the wine-red colour suited her perfectly, and the cut of the dress was rather risqué - quite a deep cleavage and practically backless - attributes that had been cleverly hidden by the cardigan until now. Also of course it was very short, but there had been no way of disguising that. Although it might be more noticeable now...

In less than ten seconds the transformation was complete, and she saw him cave in instantly - his eyes slightly glazed over as he took in the new and improved her. Holding out her hand she smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. “You remember the words, right? Dawn told me that you watched it together.”

“Yeah - I know the words,” he said as he took her hand, a resigned look on his face. She smiled triumphantly as she pulled him out onto the dance floor, an old memory resurfacing. “ _I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it!_ ” Only now he loved _her_...

Then the song started: “ _Love - mm mm mm - love is strange - yay yay..._ ”

 

Willow and Xander were halfway down the road, when Xander discovered that his wallet was missing. They were talking about getting a taxi and Xander’s offer to pay was suddenly rendered pointless.

“Damn - I left my wallet behind.”

“Well as long as it doesn’t have your passport in it, you won’t really need it until Monday, will you? I’m sure Buffy will bring it.”

“Yes, and Spike might just pinch all my money first,” he grumbled, turning back.

“Why would he steal? He obviously has loads of money now... which admittedly is rather weird,” Willow said when she caught up.

“Oh it’s not about the money - it’s the principle of the thing!” Xander announced and Willow followed him, shaking her head. 

A little ‘you-won’t-notice-us’ spell later and they were back in the club. As she picked up on the tune, Willow turned to Xander, a big smile on her face. “It’s that song from Dirty Dancing - remember when I forced you to watch it?”

But Xander wasn’t listening. He had walked over to the edge of the balcony and his eyes were caught by the couple in the middle of the dance floor. Everyone else had moved to the edges leaving a large space open for them, the crowd mesmerised. He vaguely registered Willow’s sharp intake of breath as she followed his gaze. Soon they were both as entranced as the rest of the room.

It was Buffy and Spike... but not as Xander could ever remember seeing them before. Not that they looked different exactly, apart from the fact that Buffy had somehow changed her clothes or something - she was wearing a little slip of a dress, the bright red making her stand out like a flame. And it really was very short... sometimes it was far too easy to forget that she was _a friend_ and nothing more. Spike was all in black - as nimble and lithe as a panther. The shadow to Buffy’s light. The old saying of ‘opposites attract’ made solid. 

But it wasn’t their looks that were so spellbinding. There were plenty of young ladies present that had made Xander turn his head earlier. It was something else - something almost uncanny...

The three of them - Buffy, Xander and Willow - had done a lot of dancing that night. Fun dancing, silly dancing - all manner of dancing where Spike plain refused to get involved. He _had_ danced a few slow dances with Buffy, while Xander had determinedly looked at his drink, because the whole Buffy-and-Spike thing still wigged him out. Even just discovering that Spike _could_ dance was something of a shock.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he was now witnessing. If he hadn’t known with absolute certainty that Buffy had only met Spike again Sunday night, he would have assumed that they had practised the choreography for months. Every step perfect, every move in sync, hands and bodies and feet in eerie harmony. The fact that the dancers were also long-time lovers was so obvious as to be almost indecent, which _really_ didn’t help. 

Not that they cared. Xander could see that they didn’t notice anyone but each other, like there was some kind of protective bubble around them, impenetrable from outside. And they shone... it was almost like seeing strangers wearing those well known faces. Buffy flirty and coy, a twinkle in her eyes that Xander hadn’t seen for years. Spike looked... happy. Not the quiet, understated contentment that had been there these last few days, but truly, properly, beamingly joyful. It was so odd, that Xander thought that maybe this was why the scene felt so particularly strange. Wanting to test out the theory on Willow he tore his eyes off the dancers to look at her, but found that she was staring at them so intently that he was sure she was doing some witchy thing or other. Suddenly she smiled and whispered to herself. “Of course...”.

Before Xander could ask what she meant by this, the instrumental part of the song finished, and the singing started again. Looking down he saw that Spike had moved to stand with his back to one of the pillars, and realised that they were going to act out the scene from the film.

“Sylvia?” Spike mimed, unable to keep a grin from his face.

“Yes Mickey?” Buffy answered, arms crossed defiantly and a superior look on her face.

“How do you call your Lover Boy?” _Was it possible to cram more innuendo into a facial expression?_ Xander wondered idly as he watched transfixed.

“Come here Lover Boy!” she demanded, impatiently waving a hand at him.

“And if he doesn’t answer?” An eyebrow went up, questioningly.

“Oh - Lover Boy?” More honeyed this time, with a little smile thrown in.

“And if he _still_ doesn’t answer?” A smile too smug for words; but Buffy obviously didn’t mind, as she slowly started walking across the floor, one hip at a time (“At least she’s not on her hands and knees!”, Xander thought, grateful for small mercies).

“I simply say - baby! O-oh _baby_! My sweet baby! You’re the one!”

As she uttered the last word, she put her hand on his chest and Spike’s face broke into a wide grin. The look that passed between them was so deep and loaded with meaning that Xander suddenly felt uncomfortable. It was almost worse than seeing that kiss the other night. They started dancing again, eyes locked together - that otherworldly synchronicity taking over. Why the hell was it so unsettling?

“Let’s go!” he said to Willow and she nodded, slowly taking her eyes off the couple.

When outside again, Xander looked at Willow and couldn’t help asking, “What _was_ that?” 

She shot him an odd sort of look, as though unwilling to answer, and then said: “Demons.”

“What? There weren’t any demons - or do you mean that there were demons hidden in the crowd making them do that freaky synchronised thing?”

“No... they could do the freaky dance because they are demons.”

Xander still didn’t understand what she was getting at. “Well Spike’s a demon of course, but Buffy...”

“Buffy is a Slayer. Which means that she’s ‘possessed’ or ‘imbued’ by the spirit of the demon. She has special powers, including an exceptional affinity with vampires. Usually she uses it for fighting, but tonight... we saw a different side I guess.”

Xander stared at her, trying to process what she was explaining. “Are you sure?” he finally asked.

Willow did that ‘I know everything!’ face he was so familiar with and nodded firmly. “I created all the new slayers, remember? I can do this thing where I tune into slayer-powers exclusively - always handy for finding Kennedy in a carnival - and when a Slayer is using her powers I can feel it very strongly. And in there?” she tilted her head towards the night club. “It was nearly knocking me out!”

Xander frowned, and then his mind jumped to the obvious conclusion. “Is that why... I mean... is that why she ended up with Angel and Spike and couldn’t get it to work with Riley?”

Willow shrugged and started walking. “Dunno - none of the other slayers are dating vampires, are they? Maybe it’s just a Buffy thing?”

“You’re probably right,” he answered, thinking that the pretty Slayer from Sweden - Kristina was it? - had been flirting really rather a lot the other night...

But his mind swiftly skipped back to its former thoughts, and then continued unbidden into areas it shouldn’t. He hesitantly turned to Willow: “Um... can I say something that’s going to make me sound like a complete jerk?”

“”Hey - you’re my favourite kind of jerk, so ask right ahead,” she joked back, but he didn’t smile.

“I was just thinking... and I know I shouldn’t - but... why does Buffy get a second chance? Twice? She kills Angel and Hey Presto! He’s back! Then Spike dies and what-do-you-know? He comes back too! It just... it just doesn’t seem fair on the rest of us.”

Willow had gone very quiet and Xander felt like kicking himself. He’d unwittingly brought up Tara and now Willow would be upset and it was all his fault for not thinking before he spoke.

But when she turned to look at him, her eyes were not sad, but pondering. “I - I know what you mean. I was sorta thinking the same thing earlier in the week. Only I’m not sure it works that way. As in a second-chance way. I don’t think she ever had a future with either of them, and I still don’t think she does. Unless of course one of them gets that shanshu-whatcha-ma-call-it Giles talked about, it could never be more than a temporary thing. Would you want Anya back as a demon?”

Xander frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. But still... a world where his loved one was alive - even if he couldn’t be with her - was surely better than one without.

 

It was a sentiment that Buffy shared wholeheartedly. As she walked home, wrapped up in her lover, she knew that her happiness could only be short-lived. That come Sunday night Spike would be off, fighting in a war more important that any relationship. Time was slipping through her fingers and there was nothing she could do.


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m afraid there has been a slight change of plan,” Angel announced as he walked through the door of Buffy’s flat shortly after nightfall. He was followed by Illyria who seemed to be almost floating, contentment and smugness radiating off her. In the kitchen, where she was getting a cup of coffee, Buffy pricked up her ears. It was Sunday night and she was almost counting the minutes before they had to go off and fight the Wolfram & Hart minions. Maybe they’d delayed the fight another week?

“What do you mean ‘slight’?” Spike asked. He was sitting on the sofa, carefully sharpening his sword. 

“Wolfram & Hart called, they’ve changed the time ‘til 4.30 am. My guess is that they’ll try to prolong the fight and attempt to catch us at sunrise... who knows. Maybe their goons have been rented out elsewhere, and are running late.”

Buffy came out of the kitchen, a slightly indulgent smile on her face. “Does this mean that you might want some help? Or, since I’m going to help anyway, maybe I might get a ‘thank you’?”

Angel sighed. “Yes, it would be good to have an extra hand. The quicker we can finish off and leave the better. Sunrise is a bit before 7.”

Buffy said nothing more, but was grateful for even a few extra hours, never mind the reason.

********

It was dark in the poky, little square. The few grimy lights only faintly illuminated the heaps of bodies, which was a blessing considering their ugly, grey, lumpy looks. As demons went you’d have to search long and hard to find an unlovelier species. 

Surprisingly there had only been the same number as the week before. The fight had been quick as these things went, and the four fighters had split up early on to fight as effectively as possible. Buffy had finished cleaning her axe, and was trying to recall which of the dark, dank corners she had put her weapons bag in. As she looked around, she saw a figure emerge from the shadows - the lawyer from last Sunday night. No briefcase this time, but a large, professional smile on his face.

“Mr. Angel. I’m so pleased that you agreed to this later time - saved me quite a headache.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise,” Angel replied. “I could still give you one if you like?”

“Ah, that wonderful sense of humour! I really hope we’ll be able to keep that. It would be a shame to lose it.”

“Keep it?” Angel asked, voice wary. Buffy moved backwards so she was covered by the darkness, and she could see Spike and Illyria doing likewise. There was obviously going to be some sort of confrontation.

The lawyer chuckled. “Excuse me, I forget that you are unfamiliar with our little surprise. Which is why it’s a surprise of course.”

Angel looked at him silently, and Buffy shuddered. There was such chill in that look... 

“But where are my manners?” Lawyer-guy asked. “My name is Simmons. The Senior Partners brought me in from Washington to help solve their runaway vampire problem. I’ve spent the last few months familiarising myself with your story and getting the LA branch back on its feet more or less... it’s still missing its CEO of course.”

“In case you missed that memo, I quit!” Angel said, voice flat.

“But there is no quitting Wolfram & Hart, Mr. Angel. You belong to us and we’ve merely been trying to find the best way of bringing you back.” 

Simmons’ voice was as cold as Angel’s, the steely, superior glint in his eyes making Buffy wonder where Wolfram & Hart found their employees. The guy was seriously creepy.

Angel smiled a joyless smile. “I don’t know what you have in store, but there is nothing you can offer me that could ever bring me back.”

“You seem to think you have a choice,” Simmons replied, voice almost pitying. “I’m afraid that this time you won’t be wooed by handsome ladies offering you the keys to the kingdom. Oh no, this time the conditions will be a little more - _restrictive_.”

He looked at Angel and tilted his head slightly, something akin to amusement in his eyes. “And the funny thing is that it has already started. By now this city has been ringed by a magical wall. Invisible of course, but completely impenetrable to you. I’m afraid we need to keep you here while the big mojo is applied. Large spells _do_ require the recipient to be in a specific location. And don’t think you can somehow stop it - the main action is taking place far, far from here. Not even a Concorde would get you there in time.”

Buffy found her eyes drawn to Illyria. She would be able to open a portal to anywhere in the world - but they didn’t know where to go...

Angel’s eyes must have strayed in the same direction, because Simmons laughed. “You think your pathetic little excuse for an ex-God can help you? She does not have the power to break even the smallest hole in the barrier. Not that she is bound by it - the barrier is for you alone. And once we’re done with you we can concentrate on your ‘heroic’ little grandchilde with the big ambitions. I must admit that it has been rather amusing following you, watching your attempts at making a difference. I’m afraid all the difference you’ll ever make will be of the kind you did to Illyria - reducing others to the point where they are so worthless that they are no longer a concern to the Senior Partners. A most excellent quality I must say! A street urchin would be more of a threat these days than your pitiful has-been of a Hell God.”

There was a swift blue leathery flash behind Simmons and suddenly his head was violently twisted to the side. A second later he fell to the ground in a dead heap, revealing a fuming Illyria.

Buffy’s hand automatically went to her mouth. There was something about seeing a human being ruthlessly killed that still got to her - no matter how evil he had been. 

It seemed that Angel shared her feelings.

“ _WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR?_ ” he yelled at the slender, immobile form.

Buffy almost smiled - there were some things that never changed. And Angel’s sense of right and wrong was one of them. 

But then...

“ _WE DON’T KILL PEOPLE AS LONG AS THEY’RE STILL USEFUL!_ ” he continued, and it was obvious that he was only a fraction away from lashing out at the god.

Buffy felt like the ground she was standing on had suddenly became unstable. Surely he didn’t mean what he had just said? It had to be some sort of mistake. He’d correct himself any moment...

“He insulted me!” Illyria replied coldly. “Not through innocence or foolishness, but knowing full well who I am. The price for such an action is death.”

Angel’s fists clenched and his face was utter fury. His voice was quieter now, but the anger vibrating through it had obviously not calmed at all: “I _don’t care_ what he said. He was _useful_! Wolfram  & Hart have some sort of plan for me and he knew what it was. Ten minutes and a sharp knife and he would have told me every secret he ever knew. Now we know _nothing_ except that they’re going to do _something, somewhere_!” 

He kicked the body angrily. Then he stopped and looked at it, eyes narrowing. 

“Suppose he can still be a messenger boy.” 

Kneeling down he unbuttoned the jacket and shirt. Then he pulled out a knife and tapped it thoughtfully on his chin. “Hmmm, maybe a quote of some sort?” 

A small smile appeared on his face and he began to carve words in the dead mans chest.

Despite her best efforts, a sob escaped Buffy. What had happened to her Angel? Who was this stranger wearing his face, so brutal and callous? So like... Angelus?

He must have heard her, because his head jerked up and he turned to look at her. For a second she could see the horror on his face, then it became completely devoid of emotion and he turned back to the former Mr Simmons.

Slowly she started walking up to him. She had to know - had to find out...

“What happened to you?” she asked, voice shaking.

“You don’t want to know.” he answered curtly. 

 

_Spike slowly backed even further into the shadows. There was nothing he could do - it was between the two of them. Part of him wished that he could have spared Buffy this, but maybe it was for the best. Putting people on pedestals always turned out to be a bad thing. Funny that it was Angelus who’d taught him that lesson - his first as a vampire.  
Only it was a hard lesson to learn. The hurt and disbelief on Buffy’s face brought back painful memories... with five little words he’d pushed Buffy off the pedestal Xander had put her on. Not that he regretted it as such, but seeing one of Buffy’s absolutes crumble into dust before his eyes he remembered just how much misery could come from a situation like this. Looking at the couple in front of him he vowed to himself that if Angel didn’t handle it well, he’d make his life a living hell. Buffy had just lost the imaginary white knight that had lived in her mind, but what he was replaced with was all up to Angel..._

 

As she watched, Buffy saw Angel ‘write’ a few familiar words, realising that they were from ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’: _They seek him here._

There wasn’t space for more, but it conveyed the message nonetheless. Angel would continue on his path and Wolfram & Hart would not be able to catch him. But what was this path he had chosen?

As Angel put the knife away with a satisfied air, she found herself asking. “Who are you?”

He slowly got to his feet and looked at her for a long time, and she wondered when and why he had changed so. Or maybe this had always been the real Angel and she had never known him...

Suddenly he smiled. It was an odd smile, not happy exactly, but sort of content - self assured. “I’m Angel. I beat the bad guys.”

She blinked. “What?”

_In the shadows, Spike breathed a sigh of relief._

“I used to think I had a destiny,” Angel continued, voice light as though he was describing interior furnishings. “I did the hero thing - had a purpose. But then life screwed with me more than you can imagine. If you knew just half...” He took a deep breath, looked around at the dead demons, then fastened his eyes on hers, jaw set. “I’m out of it now! Spike is the new prophecy boy and the world is full of Slayers, protecting people. I’m _free._ I chose to wage a war against Wolfram  & Hart and I’ll kill whoever I have to. Doesn’t matter if they’re human or not - what’s important is that they don’t win. They’ll use any trick in the book and there’s no way I can fight them if I’m unwilling to use the same methods. These are people who will lie, cheat and murder their way to the top. And now? I can do the same. Do you have any idea how liberating it is? To throw all the rules out the window? Not to be bound by all that duty and do what you want?” 

She was staring at him, too shocked to answer. But at the back of her mind she knew what he was talking about. She could hear a voice, one that had for a while given her that freedom - freedom that she had eventually turned her back on. 

_“Try out my world - see how good it feels.”_

_“That’s not your world... you belong in the dark - with me.”_

She had flirted with the line - crossed it again and again until it all became a grey blur. But Spike had crossed it for real - from the dark into the light. And Angel... had done the opposite?

She understood his choice, but that still didn’t make it right. You couldn’t beat evil by doing evil, she knew that - she had lived it. She was about to speak, when Angel cut her off. “I know what you’re thinking. But you have a sacred birthright. _I don’t!_ The Powers once chose me as their champion, but they’ve got another souled vampire now. My mission - my responsibility - is gone. And because of that I can do things you can’t. Things that need doing. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, ask Giles some day.”

She frowned at his words. Did he mean that thing where Giles had tried to kill Spike with Wood’s help? Before she could ask, and before Angel could continue, there was a sudden buzzing sound. With an irritated growl Angel pulled out his cellphone and looked at the screen to see who the caller was. Instantly his face changed, making Buffy gasp at the transformation. She had never seen him look terrified before, but now there was pure fear in his eyes. Who could call that would make him look so scared?

Faster than her eyes could follow the phone was against his ear: “Connor! What’s wrong?”


	20. Chapter 20

The seconds stretched and stretched as Angel listened intently, now and again nodding. After a while he looked up, seeking out Spike.

“Connor is fighting some demons, but they refuse to die. Large and green skinned, with what look like oversized ram-horns on their heads. Don’t speak English.”

Buffy and Spike looked at each other across the square, then said in unison. “Fyarl?”

“They can only be killed by silver,” Spike explained.

“Could be....” Angel said, then looked at Buffy. “Tell me you have a silver knife in that bag of yours.”

“I should have a couple...” she said and he nodded absentmindedly. “Good. Go get them.” 

Putting the phone back to his ear he spoke to the mysterious Connor again. “We’ll be there in just a moment - I’ll explain how later. Where exactly are you?”

As she ran off to fetch her bag, she could hear Angel instructing Illyria as to where she should open a portal. Apparently they were going to one of the larger parks in LA. 

By the time she had had picked up the bag and turned around, the portal was hanging in the air. Angel must already have gone through and she saw Spike waving at her before disappearing. 

“Someone better explain what’s going on - _soon_ ,” she muttered to herself as she ran back to Illyria. _Who was Connor?_

She pulled out the two silver knives from the bag, before she slung it over her shoulder. Then she jumped through the portal. 

And nearly bumped into Spike and Angel.

Considering how desperate they had been to leave, they were not doing much to justify their haste. They were standing side by side, arms crossed, staring at a youth fighting 6 Fyarl demons single-handedly with what looked like a piece of iron fence. Most were injured, but still the odds appeared overwhelming. As she watched, Buffy marvelled at the boy’s skills - he fought as well as a Slayer and looked around the same age as her eldest ones, but since there were no male Slayers, she wondered what he could be. A vampire perhaps?

Then Angel spoke, an odd note of pride in his voice as he leaned towards Spike: “You know in Quortoth he was called ‘The Destroyer’!”

Spike shot him a look. “You might have mentioned that a few times,” he replied dryly.

Then Angel turned and saw her. “Buffy - you’re here! Excellent.”

Swiping the knives from her hand he ran off, calling to the boy. “Connor! Catch.” 

He tossed the kid a knife and Buffy saw Connor turn around, a delighted smile breaking out on his face. “Dad! How did you get here so fast? I thought you were in Europe.”

“Fight first, then talk son,” Angel replied and a second later the two of them were back to back, swiftly taking out the demons.

Buffy stared open-mouthed. This was it - she’d finally gone insane. She’d wake up any moment in some lunatic asylum. Or maybe it wasn’t really Angel but a clever copy of some sort? Because Angel NEVER ignored her. _Ever._ And yet here she was, being treated as nothing more than a weapons cabinet, while he’d run off to fight with that Connor-boy. Who’d called him ‘dad’. Must be a vampire then, only why would Angel be so concerned? And why ‘dad’ rather than ‘sire’? She turned to Spike, who was watching the fight with amusement. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked at her. “Better to just let them get on with it.”

“But...” she looked from Spike back to the fight, just as Connor killed the last Fyarl. Angel was watching, the grin on his face wider than Buffy could ever remember seeing before.

Handing back the knife, Connor grinned back, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about calling, but I couldn’t think what else to do. I don’t really know a lot of people with demon knowledge... and I’d never come across this species before.”

“No worries son,” Angel replied. “As it happens Illyria can now open portals again, so I’ll be able to keep in touch a bit better.” He looked around. “She seems to have disappeared though...” A beat, then he shrugged. “Never mind. There’s someone else I’d like you to meet.”

As Angel and Connor walked across the grass, they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Spike beside her stiffened too, and all three heads turned in unison, obviously trying to hear better. Buffy pulled a face. Why didn’t Slayer-powers include super-hearing? 

Angel and Spike glanced at each other. Then Angel turned to Connor. “Someone’s coming - Wolfram & Hart employees if I’m not mistaken. Hide! I don’t want you mixed up in this.”

Connor shot him a look, but nodded. “OK. But you better explain afterwards.”

“Don’t worry,” Angel answered, that smile back on his face. He glanced at Buffy: “You hide too - this is not your fight. Oh - and if you’ve got a crossbow could you lend it to Spike?”

She nodded mutely and handed the bag to Spike, who swiftly grabbed the bow. He gave the bag back to her and then took her hands before looking her in the eyes. “Buffy... don’t be too upset about what happened before. Angel’s like you - he cuts himself off so he can do his job.”

Then he kissed her softly and disappeared. 

Sighing deeply she followed Connor who had vanished behind some tall bushes. Spike defending Angel? The insanity-theory began to look very good.

As she sat down on the ground, resting her back against a tree, she saw Connor peering out, trying to see where Angel and Spike had gone. He looked over his shoulder. “Never liked hiding. But I suppose that my presence would be hard to explain.”

She smiled back politely and he suddenly shook his head. “Sorry - I’m being really rude, aren’t I?” 

He held out his hand. “I’m Connor, Angel’s son.”

She took his hand automatically, and with a shock realised that it was warm. Her eyes widened as she looked at the kid properly. He was human. No demon senses buzzing anywhere no matter how hard she tried. 

_Angel had a human son? But..._

*******

The park was dark and deathly quiet, and Jessica Roberts couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. She knew that the plan was foolproof - at least 99.99% so - but still... of course when she mentioned this to Jefferson he laughed and asked if she was on her period. She smiled stiffly and shook her head. He was such an unpleasant, lewd guy, not to mention that he looked like a toad, but he was one of the best paralegals around and she should be grateful that she’d managed to get into his department. At least Wolfram & Hart wasn’t one of those companies where you had to sleep your way to the top. Scheming and murdering was so much more fun anyway... hopefully one day she’d be able to do a Lilah Morgan and watch Jefferson’s flat and repellent little head roll across a table...

She chuckled to herself and Jefferson slapped her on the back. “That’s the attitude, Jess! No more of that female intuition crap, OK? Mr Simmons phoned less than 15 minutes ago saying that everything is ready. And as long as our esteemed friend here can pull off the big mojo, we’ll be heading for happy land in no time. Wish I’d brought a cigar!”

He grinned and Jessica closed her eyes briefly. Trying to take her mind off her odious companion, she looked ahead to where the freaky shaman appeared to be floating across the grass. She was slightly surprised that none of the demons they’d hired had shown up yet. Considering that they’d been employed for their strength and dim-wittedness, she almost expected them to get something wrong. But when she looked ahead she could see the pyre waiting to be lit. The demons must have gone to fetch the sacrifices.

Suddenly something large and black jumped out of the trees in front of them. It hit the shaman square in the chest and he crumpled into a heap on the ground. Jessica almost cried out loud. In front of them stood Angel. Angel who she knew was trapped in Rome by a wall of magic. It was quite simply not possible for him to be here!

The vampire smiled at them, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Jefferson! And Miss Roberts. What could the two of you be doing here tonight? With a very powerful shaman? Feel like telling me?”

Jefferson, displaying more backbone and stupidity than Jessica would have thought him capable of, answered. “Don’t be so cocky now Mr Angel - we’ve got your number-”

Angel’s smile became even wider, his voice like honey. Jessica swallowed. She’d never had much to do with him, back when he was boss, but she’d heard tales of how he was always most dangerous when he was friendly.

“I would be very careful with what I say, Jefferson. Spike is standing behind you with a loaded crossbow. And I think that a wooden dart will kill a human just as well as it will a vampire.”

Jessica turned her head at the same time as Jefferson, and saw Spike standing about 20 yards behind them, the crossbow raised. “Hello!” he waved, grinning, and then swung the bow from one to the other, silently mouthing ‘Eeny, meeny, miny, mo...”

Looking back to Angel, the two lawyers knew that something had gone terribly wrong somewhere and Jessica cursed her stupid intuition and the fact that she’d ignored it. 

Face suddenly serious Angel spoke again. “Now I just had the pleasure of killing half a dozen Fyarl demons - and I couldn’t help noticing the large pyre over there. So what’s going on?”

Noticing that Jefferson was now sweating profusely and might just faint at any moment, Jessica decided that she’d better do something before the vampires got impatient.

“We came here to witness and supervise a spell to bring you back to us, Mr. Angel,” she answered, noticing with delight how calm her voice was. “We have been quite bereft without you.”

“So you were what - going to teleport me across the ocean?” Angel asked, a look of quiet curiosity on his face.

“Oh no! We were going to take your free will - the Senior Partners are very fond of puppets.” 

She had often found that straightforward honesty was the best way to go - and she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. 

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m getting a strange feeling of deja-vu. There were some mysterious ninja robots who tried to do the same thing last year, using the Staff of Devosynn. Don’t tell me that someone was so careless as to lose it...”

“Oh no. But Mr Simmons deemed it too risky. Knowing your history someone was likely to find the staff and break it sooner or later. This spell was to have been permanent.”

Angel nodded slowly. “Smart. Mr Simmons was obviously a clever guy.”

“ _Was?_ ” Jefferson asked, shocked.

Angel grinned unpleasantly. “He might have insulted Illyria - she’s rather tetchy these days.”

Jessica closed her eyes. Half of her terrified, the other half busy trying to work out if this meant that she could possibly get a promotion out of this...

*******

By the time Angel and Spike reappeared, Buffy and Connor were deep in discussion over memory-altering spells. She was utterly fascinated by the strange parallels between his story and Dawn’s and had already decided that she had to arrange for them to meet somehow - he seemed like a really solid guy. There was also a very small part of her that muttered that even if she couldn’t have Angel, maybe Dawn could get his son - a strange, rather bizarre sort of retaliation, years after she had got over him - but damn! Why not?

“Oh - you’re back,” she said rather superfluously and got up, stretching her legs to get some feeling back. “So - what did you find out?”

As Angel explained, she began to feel increasingly freaked out. Wolfram & Hart wanted to take his free will so they could control him? Even going as far as using human sacrifices... homeless people from what Angel said. People that no one would miss. The calculated coldness of the whole thing made her uncomfortable. But Angel had let the lawyers go as well as those that would have been sacrificed. 

She looked at Spike, but he avoided her eyes, busying himself with a cigarette. What was it about souled vampires that made everyone want to turn them into puppets? Recalling far too vividly the problems that had come from The First’s control of Spike, she hugged herself tightly, suddenly feeling chilly.

When all the expounding had finished, she asked. “So what now?”

“Now we leave,” Angel said. “Suppose we have to go to the desert first, but then we’ll probably start jumping between dimensions. I could really have done without this.”

She nodded, then looked around. “Um - where did Illyria go to?”

Spike and Angel shot each other a glance, then sighed. “This way,” Angel said, and they all set off, Buffy and Connor rather puzzled.

As they walked, Spike turned to Connor and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you properly, kid. Not really sure what sort of relations we are to each other though. I think we’re each other’s great-uncle or something.”

Connor shook his hand and chuckled. “Yeah - it’s a bit confusing.”

Spike looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Got your mother’s eyes - not sure if she’d be proud of you, though, or slap you for helping the good guys.”

Buffy listened to the conversation in silence. There was so much history when it came to Spike and Angel... and Darla and Dru. And she began to wonder what was so special about herself that had made both vampires ready to kill their former mates for her sake. And why did everything in her life always end up in violence? 

A while later they arrived at what Spike told her was the Hyperion hotel. In the garden in front of the hotel they found the hellgod, her slim little figure dwarfed by the large building. 

She was standing in front of two large stone monuments, one crowned with bones to which bits of fabric were still clinging. When Buffy got closer she read the inscriptions and recalled what Spike had told her about them. 

Illyria was still utterly immobile, and Buffy studied the god, wondering what went on behind those motionless features. She had killed a man with her bare hands tonight, for nothing more than an insult, and yet she had somehow erected these monuments to two men - one of whom Buffy knew had been deeply flawed. It wasn’t easy to say if this being was good or bad... and who was Buffy anyway to try to judge? Considering the things she had done herself - and the way she had so very purposefully not pried into what exactly it was that The Immortal did...

Tiredly rubbing her eyes she looked over at where Spike and Angel were standing - two inky silhouettes in the darkness of the overgrown garden. Both of them had challenged her world-view and accepted beliefs. Had caused her more happiness and grief than she had thought possible. As she started thinking about the two of them, she frowned. Because she was suddenly hit with the realisation that if it had been Spike who’d yelled at Illyria - Spike who had started carving in Mr Simmons’ chest she wouldn’t have been nearly as shocked. Angry and disappointed certainly - telling him that he was gross and disgusting and what he was doing was wrong, but... 

Then Angel spoke to Connor, breaking her train of thought: “Why are you in LA?

“Oh - I only came to see some friends last week, but then I decided to stay a few days longer...”

Spike silently left Angel’s side and beckoned Buffy to follow him. Taking her hand, he led her to the empty hotel. It was dark inside and the light from the windows was dim. She looked at him and was suddenly transported back to another empty building... the way the faint light picked out his cheekbones and the blue in his eyes. The way she could feel her heart suddenly beating wildly...

He reached out and softly touched her face. “Can’t wreck this building I’m afraid,” he said, smiling wistfully.

“Yeah I know,” she sighed and then sat down on the round sofa in the middle of the reception. She fiddled with the fraying edge of her right sleeve before looking up. “Spike... what is it that you and Angel do? Why is he so... so much like Angelus?” 

Spike grimaced, obviously uncomfortable, but she knew that he wouldn’t try to fudge the issue and braced herself for what might come. He looked at her silently before sitting down next to her, taking a deep breath before he started talking.

“When Angel took over LA’s Wolfram & Hart it was probably the most stupid thing he’s ever done. I understand _why_ now - if I had a kid I’d probably sell my soul to save it too. Hell, I’d sell it for you or Dawn if I had to. But, what matters is that he signed that piece of paper and ended up with his back against the wall with nowhere to go. I watched him all that year, trying to live with a compromise. And it tore him apart. In the end he did the one thing he was able to - he left that corner by the only way that he could. Which wasn’t pretty.”

Spike stopped briefly, then shot her a glance. “Remember when you thought you’d come back wrong? That you’d lost some of your humanity? Angel left his behind deliberately. Wolfram & Hart will stop at nothing to achieve their ends. But now there’s a good guy doing the same. He’s not in it for any kind of reward - he’s in it for vengeance. And for Connor. And... he does what he does so I don’t have to.”

Silence fell and Buffy studied Spike’s profile. She had it on film now - picture upon picture of Spike and a good few of Angel too. What was it with the two of them? _He does what he does so I don’t have to..._ She thought that she knew what he meant, but there was something about the way he had said it, something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Part of her wanted to ask - but there was another part that told her to back off. That she might not like the answer... his face suddenly seemed very closed, and she had the distinct impression that it was too private a matter. So instead she asked different question:

“What did you mean when you said Angel was like me?”

Spike smiled. “He is. _You_ ran away after you had to kill him because life was too painful - _he_ spent a hundred years running away from the pain of the soul. And you both fight best with your back against the wall - if you sit down and think about stuff you just get all depressed.” 

He stopped and stared ahead. “But more than anything it’s all about the mission for you two. See this is where Angel is so different from Angelus - Angelus never had much in the way of ambitions - lived from obsession to obsession, refining his art. The whole business with Acathla was the closest he ever came to having Angel’s drive... but why am I talking about Angel?”

She shook her head. “I think I asked... lets just jump straight to the kissing, shall we?”

He chuckled as she straddled him, but then he stopped and studied her, face serious and melancholic. “Y’know I always thought that just getting a chance with you would be enough. That time I tied you up and begged for a crumb? I never thought further. And now I’ve actually got you and still there’s no happy ending. I’m just hoping that by some bloody miracle it’ll all work out one day... .”

She had no words to offer, no platitudes, so instead she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Was it only a week since she had first seen him again? It felt like so much longer. So much upheaval, so many highs and lows... and oh so many kisses. Why was it that kissing him was so different from anyone else? None of her boyfriends had been bad kissers - as a matter of fact they’d all been very good. As they pulled apart briefly she looked at him, and she knew that he was all hers. He’d always given her his all - he never held back. As their lips met again she thought that maybe this was why his kisses were so different. As was everything else... she could still hear his voice after their first night together - “It was a bloody revelation!” 

The amazing thing though was that it never stopped being a revelation - every kiss as exciting as the first one, every touch significant...

But their farewell was cut woefully short when the door slammed open and Illyria strode in.

“Angel deems that it is time to leave now. There is much for us to do. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart will learn to fear my name again - their stolen power will be shattered and broken, their followers reduced to dust. Make haste vampire!”

She turned and walked out, leaving the couple to stare at each other, Buffy rather bemused. “Is she _always_ like that?”

“Pretty much,” Spike replied. “But apparently she used to know the Senior Partners back in the old days, so she sort of takes the whole thing personally since they tried to kill her.” 

He shrugged and pulled her in for a last embrace, whispering endearments in her ear as he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. But after one last kiss they got up, Buffy half-angrily wiping her eyes before taking his hand. 

“We’re like a bad romance novel. I should really be going before I start swooning and you have to gather me to your manly chest.”

“But you’re so pretty when you swoon,” he laughed and sent her a look full of suggestions and memories. Then he pushed open the door.

 

As Illyria opened a portal to London for her, Buffy recalled a thought she’d had a few days ago and, throwing the bag over her shoulder, shot Spike one last look: “So what do I have to do to get you to come ice skating with me?”

Spike’s face looked as though she had just slapped it with a wet fish - astonishment too mild a word.

And with a smile on her face, Buffy jumped through the portal onto the street behind the Council’s main building. Maybe someday it would indeed all work out...

****

**  
**

The End

****  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Someday is an old fic, and about ten years ago I started writing a sequel, 'Divided Destiny'. Unusually for me I planned out the whole plot/arc, and I wrote about half (14 chapters) before I began focussing on other things and let it lapse. Some years ago I started posting the first chapters, but stopped after seven. _This time_ , however, I am actually writing again! Posting might be slower, since I will obviously still be writing when we get to later chapters, but if you are still wishing to follow the adventures of this 'verse, please make your way to 
> 
>   [Chapter 1 of Divided Destiny](http://archiveofourown.org/works/818392/chapters/1549633)
> 
> You get the first seven chapters all in one, so there will be a bit of a gap before the next one (partly because work will be v busy). Also, whereas this was very much 'A Week of Spike/Buffy', Divided Destiny focusses more on Angel, Spike & Illyria's quest, although there will be plenty of cameos of Buffy et al. Hope you enjoy - should you so choose - otherwise thank you so so much for reading this story, I hope you found it worthwhile. 
> 
> Elisi <3


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